The Healer's Touch
by Zoey Overbeck
Summary: Sometimes, she hated being a Storm Hawk and all the duties and responsibilities that came with it, which now included nursing an injured Cyclonian back to health. Meanwhile, the rest of the team races against a familiar enemy for a treasure that could change the world and Atmos prepares for war. Focuses on Piper and Cyclonis, mostly non-romance interaction. Maybe some CyPi later.
1. See You Next Fall!

Author's Note: I am not completely sure on the whole titles thing. For instance, is the ship named "_The Condor_", or is simply "_Condor_"? Is it "The Far Side" or simply the last two words? The Dark Ace is included in the mix too, but the show suggests only "Dark Ace".

Please excuse my attempts at being funny here- you'll see when the next chapter comes out and this chapter's title is revealed. Sarcasm is also grouped in this sad pile.

Depending on my revisions, this version of the story may be different in contrast to later versions, as I perform revisions during the publishing process. Add ons include more descriptions and subtle details, as well as grammar and spelling checks.

* * *

**"Life is made up, not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles, and kindnesses, and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart and secure comfort"****  
****~Humphrey Davey**

* * *

A slash of purple sliced through the air.

Trapped, ragged, dangerously low on food and water and slightly delirious, the last Cyclonian heir desperately staged her last stand over the ruins of a kingdom's decrepit castle. Without the aid of her night crawlers, her once-vast crystal supply dwindled to almost nothing. Unable to efficiently mine and refine the treasured stones, Master Cyclonis practically had painted herself into a corner- sawed off the branch she sat on, even- just to escape the sight of over 60 years' worth of work crumbling to the ground.

Not that she was a wizened old crone, mind you. This Master Cyclonis was a plucky 17 year old, the latest to have the Cyclonian empire thrusted into her hands. Her grandparent's war pressed on her mind, ageing well beyond her years both mentally and physically. And keep Cyclonia well she did, allowing the struggling empire to wax in power and devour terras whole- that is, until power corrupted her, goading her into gaining a Far Side door. Then, that's when her carefully laid plans fell apart. The Storm Hawks, protectors of Atmos, came into the picture and liberated all those trapped under the empire's thumb.

As of last week, Cyclonia failed to exist.

Aerrow leapt above the deadly wave, bouncing off of Piper's half-clasped hands like a skilled cheerleader. Well-toned legs wrapped around the latter's waist as he flipped forward, using his drive to send the team's navigator flying through the air towards the evil empress just as the brightly colored energy sizzled the air under his feet. Like clockwork, they worked well in battle together; he tumbled forward and used his hands to rocket off the ground, giving his teammate a sure-footed kick to add momentum to her attack.

Master Cyclonis snarled and whipped out her staff from the depths of her flowing, inky black cloak, having withdrawn it earlier for reasons unknown.

Piper whimpered, recognizing the glowing icy blue rock clutched within the staff's end as a Frost crystal.

Apparently, Aerrow did too, for his face stretched into one of the widest maniacal grins The Far Side had ever seen.

"Stay on it, Piper!" He cried, just as a beam of blue issued forth from the scepter, "Use it to your advantage!"

And so the First Officer did, directly taking the blue bolt to the chest. A thick layer of ice soon covered the entirety of her body, preventing further movement. However, the crystal's power failed to nullify the Storm Hawk's momentum and, as he predicted, it only increased the force of her attack.

Amethyst eyes widened the slightest bit, their owner holding up the crystal rod as a feeble line of defense.

Piper's encased form smashed into Cyclonis's, easily snapping the latter's weapon like a twig while at the same time shattering the protective layer of frozen water. The force of the kick sent both girls reeling back. Her broken staff's spindly form flew out of sight, clattering loudly on the stone pavement below.

Caught off guard, Cyclonis could only stare in awe as the hotheaded team leader leapt over his recovering teammate to plant both feet onto her chest and pin her to the ground.

"Double-teaming, how… _resourcefu_l," the supposedly trapped villain snarled.

Time impatiently pressed itself upon her. Within minutes, the rest of the fools would break through her hastily erected traps. She had to **escape**. She had to end this **now**.

A fist flew out, landing squarely on the Sky Knight's jaw, joined by a well-placed front stomp.

Aerrow flew back into the depths of the derelict structure, dazed. Piper started towards him, only to be immobilized by a blast from a Paralyzer crystal.

"Aerrow!" the girl cried, shivering violently from the remnants of her ice cover and wishing her legs would cooperate.

Cyclonis snickered darkly, approaching the stunned woman. A gaunt, spidery hand stretched out; her black staff answered the silent call and flew into its master's hand, the halves already bonding to each other once more.

"Perfect attunement has certainly gifted both of you in skills and power, but…"

Piper snapped her attention back to the treacherous villain...

…Just in time for a streak of pink to smash against her body.

"…It's not enough to spare you from my wrath!"

Wave after wave of scorching heat sent fire pulsing through the poor girl's veins, searing off the ice cover's remnants. Minute after agonizing minute passed for what seemed like hours on end. It was like Grunting, she fell to her knees, unable to even move her pinky finger; all she could do was lie on the ground wait for her death to come.

And just like that, a miracle happened.

Quad-engines flaring, _The Condor _soared over the treeline with its frontal cannons deployed, distracting the villainess long enough for the Storm Hawk to break free of the crystal's hold.

Now fully deiced and able to move once more, Piper launched into a somersault, successfully evading the other's cursory defensive potshots. An effective head butt to the stomach caused momentary paralysis; it was all the crystal mage needed to land a few hits in retaliation.

A kick meant to sweep her legs right from under her swung in her direction. Piper sprang above the attack, cocking a fisted arm back for her next attack. Already, she could hear Aerrow arriving once more above the din of battle. Unbeknownst to her, the villain waited until she was close enough and went in for an uppercut.

Both deadly moves landed on their targets.

Head snapping back, Piper lost her footing and tumbled over the land's end. A reflexive clutch and the girl's momentum were all that was needed for the evil empress herself to fall after her. Soon, both plummeted like lead weights. Screaming, they descended into the sea of clouds, soon smothered within its embrace.

**Only one parachute deployed.**


	2. Crash Course

Piper always wanted to go skydiving from the Condor's hanger bay. The rush of adrenaline, the feeling of helpless free fall, and the wind slicing by her face appealed to her with the same intensity as the discovery of new crystals. Strange, seeing as Finn and Aerrow were the usual adrenaline junkies. Still, it was pretty exciting, watching the ground rush to catch her.

...if she made it to the ground, that is. Chances were (and she had calculated that there was a 68 percent chance of doing so), she'd probably end up on a terra of nothing but lava and rock.

Her counterpart seemed to agree with her unspoken thought process, digging ten (unbelievably) sharp nails into her calves and holding on for dear life. Facade forgotten and nonchalance thrown aside, the girl flailed midair with the grace of a fish out of water. Without her staff, levitation was made impossible; in short, she was completely powerless.

Groaning in pain, Piper pulled the ripcord, quietly exhaling her thanks as the sheet of tan cloth embossed with a teal avian logo billowed behind her. Cyclonis wasn't so grateful, however. The sudden reduction in momentum caused the taller girl's hold to be shaken loose. And so, shrieking like a banshee, Cyclonis plummeted, having nothing but air resistance to save her.

"Cyclonis!"

A hand was extended, another responding in kind despite fruitless futility. Dark-painted fingernails brushed against beige boots and were lost.

Her voice, stripped of malicious undertones, grew tinier and tinier as the great divide between grew, lost to snapping winds and rolling clouds.

The fog grew thicker, the air more putrid, unbearably sour, and like the odor of Junko's burnt cooking. For a while Piper drifted, blown about by light gusts of wind like a ball with a puppy. Then, long tendrils of inky black drifted into view, catching sheet and Storm Hawk with eager fingers.

The burnt, long-dead branches gave way under her weight. Piper tumbled, skin scratched and torn by rough bark as she plummeted to her doom.

The melody of snapping branches and falling leaves previously undisturbed accompanied swift darkness, sweet unknown.

* * *

Finn angled his switchblade a precise 24.56 degrees to the left, firmly squeezing a finger around the scoped crossbow's trigger. The winged creature caught the arcing arrow by its shaft, easily snapping the crystal-tipped weapon in half and tossing the pieces away with a graceful arc of its elongated neck muscles.

The sniper reached, feeling for the familiar metal rods in his case, only to find air instead. A quick look confirmed his suspicions; he was defenseless. What's more, the long dragonesque... thing... thought nothing of his attacks but as feathers against rock; obviously the weak crystals had little effect on its thick scaly hide.

"Aw, man!"

Somewhat morbidly amused, the serpentine beast followed after his fleeing form, wriggling dexterously in midair as leathery wings fanned the air rhythmically. A scaly maw parted to reveal rows of broken, jagged teeth and purple, diseased gums. From within, a ribbon of red and pink lashed in and out, slipping between the calcium structures with ease.

A desperate thumb's flick revealed a communications link on the Cyclonian sky bike; Finn jammed the same finger onto it not a moment later, the radio already tuned to The Condor II's unique frequency. Junko answered the call, already prepping the airship's heavy ballistic defense systems.

"We're** doomed**," Stork mumbled, nosing the ship further towards the skies.

"Don't worry, buddy," the Wallop assured, peering through his scope and firing off a few warning blasts, "I'm sure Finn's got it all covered, and that he's just luring the beast..."

"_**Towards my ship!**_" the Merb hissed, pupils dilated with fury and hands wrapped around the steel controls like a vice.

Laughing nervously, Junko could only offer a muttered apology before hastily resuming fire, a difficult feat, considering the myriad of turns the Merb executed to safely intercept the fleeing marksman.

Radarr tailed behind the Rekhyt, concerned for the fates of his teammates. Aerrow told him to protect their flagship while he and Piper spied on Cyclonis, but said nothing about dealing with an enraged dragon whose territory had been invaded. Of course, the poor Sky Knight had other things on his mind than** deadly monsters; **it _wasn't like_he had other problems like dwindling supplies and an overworked crew to think about.

Finn rocketed upwards, wishing Cyclonian switchblades had better engines. Half transformed to resemble his personal skimmer, the sky bike now donned some blue armoring, as well as a sloppily painted mess attempting to resemble their avian logo. However, engine changes weren't an option; after all, they weren't in the known Atmos anymore. Radarr and the Rekhyt followed in close pursuit, the former pushing the winged vehicle to its limits.

"You've got to try harder than that!" the blond-haired teen called, soaring higher and higher, going faster and faster. "Your mother was a salamander!"

Although it couldn't comprehend what its prey said, it understood the tone of voice. Cracked, greedy claws rubbed together eagerly, and pressing forward, the beast accelerated towards the hooting boy.

And then, in a daring maneuver, Finn pulled a 180 and cut the engines, allowing the switchblade to drift dangerously close to the lizard before revving the engines and blasting away. Confused and slightly blinded by the cloud cover, the Rekhyt continued to fly upwards in pursuit of a non-existent target.

Radarr swerved round to follow his crew-mate, hoping to escape the brute's vicinity by diving low and using the roiling clouds to its advantage. However, it noticed the flaring engine's distinctive whine and followed, using the tell-tale red streak as a pilot light. And so, using the massive horn on its forehead, the Rekhyt rammed the switchblade.

Radarr squealed in terror, increasing the throttle in hopes of leaving the monster behind.

**He misjudged.**

The increased velocity burst came a half-second too late. By that time, the serpentine beast of legend flew directly above; a swipe of its massive tail easily swatted the rocking sky bike out of the air.

"Aw, _come on_" the mission specialist grumbled in its peculiar language.

The rabbit-lemur fell, squealing incomprehensibly as the bike fell out from under it. The sniper instantly reacted to the high-pitched screams, turning 'round, swooping low, and catching the Sky Monkey from underneath just before it landed in between the monster's teeth as a snack. A pained grunt confirmed the spectacular save; Finn cheered triumphantly while Radarr could only muster a forced smile as both sniper and specialist soared to safety.

* * *

When the world returned, it was brown, positioned at an odd angle, and disconcertingly still far away.

Piper hung from the branches by her saving grace, limbs dangling uselessly. Attempts to free herself from her parachute's hold only further aggravated her situation. Soon, she found herself upside-down and tangled within its tenacious, ropy hold, head spinning and eyes lolling about within their sockets. A quick shake quickly dispelled the dizzy-spell and rejuvenated her focus even as blood rushed to her head.

"Alright, enough of this"

Fingers strained to reach the leaf-shaped crystal around her neck. Although dated far beyond her grandmother's time and thought to be devoid of any possible uses, Piper liked wearing it. Quite fortunate, considering she honestly thought about leaving it on the Condor today. Closer…closer…

Perspiration beaded upon her forehead. Fingernails drew near the crystal. Three inches… two and a half… two… one…

Nails finally swatted the rock, pushing it into the other hand's grasp.

Piper resisted the urge to cry out in jubilation, instead carefully maneuvering it between her three available digits.

The dull crystal's edge sawed through the fibers at a steady pace. Ochre eyes intently watched its progression like a hawk, taking in every splitting thread. Seconds turned into minutes, and yet the crystal mage remained dedicated to her task, no matter how insipid the entire matter seemed. As navigator and First officer, even the dullest of tasks became mesmerizing once she adjusted her mindset. After all, the most mundane of tasks gave her relief from a certain blonde teen's guitar "music".

The bond snapped, and Piper's center of gravity instantly shifted.

The young, charred tree collapsed right from under her, and the remnant of Piper's parachute proved itself useful once more, ensuring its owner hit the ground with only a moderately painful fall.

Rubbing her now-sore tailbone and mumbling colorful words under her breath, Piper staggered to her feet. Less than fifty feet away, Cyclonis sprawled about on the ground.

Her legs were made useless by broken ankles and a shattered knee. Pieces of white bone rose from the gaping wounds, glistening brightly with blood. Faithfully beside her, her staff lay on the earthen clay. Had the girl landed several feet to her right... Piper shuddered at the vision.

She got off relatively lucky with a parachute to slow her fall, even if it was bogged down by the dictator's added weight and cavorted in the foliage in its descent. Cyclonis however, fared worse, having nothing but tree limbs to slow her descent once her tenuous grasp on her rival failed her.

Cautiously gauging the empress's state of consciousness, Piper retrieved the retracting weapon and clipped it to her belt. A light 'clink' reassuringly jolted the air as the rival mage's scepter found comfort with hers.

Two fingers found their way to Cyclonis's throat, lightly pressing against the cool, pallid skin. Expertly, they traced its side, coming to a rest atop a vein, feeling the cardiac muscle's pulse, the life-blood's reassuring flow. The younger mage's ear rested near the other's mouth, listening to the girl's slow, steady breathing. In, out. In, out.

Good. She was still alive, if not unconscious.

And for a moment, Piper wondered why she cared. It wasn't Aerrow's, nor was it Junko's, Radarr's, Stork's, or even _Finn's _life on the line.

But then the moment passed, and Piper leaned away, satisfied. No visible head trauma was detected, and damage seemed limited to her lower body. Assured of the former's survival, Piper covered the empress's body with her parachute remains and surrounding foliage. It was time for some recon.

* * *

**AN: **Don't worry! It's only a chapter I divided into two because I felt bad for not updating for a month!

With Radarr and Finn, I originally kept the running gag and had Finn fall on his crotch on Radarr's switchblade, but I thought it more heroic if Finn saved the day instead.

As for Cyclonis, she'll be fine. I **promise**.


	3. Help! I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up!

**Earworm Music: **"Dumb Ways to Die"

* * *

Aerrow flew low over the terra, searching for any sign of the then-dueling girls. His- technically, Junko's- switchblade made little noise, the wings of the sky bike adjusted for optimal lift creation at low speeds. Throttled back, the switchblade lazily circled round the cloudy mountaintop regions, skimming the tops of clouds.

Like Finn, he'd also taken artistic liberty with the Cyclonian bike. Red and green swathes of color plastered its sides, signifying their joint usage. Radarr had added more steel armoring against his wishes, further reducing the motorcycle's speed to a near crawl. Perhaps the ever-present threat of death in this new world changed his mind. Knowing Aerrow liked to personally fight hand-to-hand while he tried his best to avoid getting shot down, security was favored over speed. Today's encounter with the Rekhyt only served to justify his actions- the more heavily armored the bike was, the harder it would be for those vile creatures to take it down. Plus, out-flying them was useless, seeing as their large wingspans gave them an unfair advantage.

Hunched upon its frame, a shadowy figure in the brighter backdrop of sunlit clouds, he traded snippets of updates with the remaining team members.

From what he gathered, Finn had his switchblade wrecked, leaving Junko's sky bike and three bat-winged Nightcrawler apparatuses- things the Sky Knight was definitely sure he didn't want to touch at all. If they made them into bikes, fine, but as for now, there was no way he'd be caught dead flying with that thing strapped to his back.

Speaking of the Cyclonis's minions...

...He wondered about her Heliscooter rusting away at the back of the Air Skimmer bay, covered under a dark cloth and forgotten. Piper often spent time with it after the events at Terra Tundras, staring at its steel body as if it gave her the answers she sought, and grew angry when her brooding was interrupted or the machine touched. Thus, the machine was left alone under Piper's constant care, silent.

Radarr chirped from behind, perched upon the boy's shoulders. For hours, they'd been out here, half-blinded and at a loss where their friend fell. The only logical place she could've gone was directly below but because of the turbulent winds, Piper could be anywhere after deploying her parachute...

...Maybe even at sky's end, drifting aimlessly in gale winds and updrafts for the remainder of her short life or until something snapped her up for a quick bite.

Or perhaps he'd find her frostbitten remains one day on a barren arctic terra, half eaten with the perpetrator's bloody red trail leading away into the far ends of the plane.

The Sky Knight convulsed violently, nearly shaking his co-pilot off the winged motorcycle and started to talk to himself, presumably to maintain focus. Radarr squawked indignantly, gripping his shoulder harshly and believing his friend now clinically insane. Five hours, thirty-two minutes, and sixteen seconds of trying to find the same object- or person, in this case- always drove one in that direction.

The radio crackled to life, mincing the speaker's words between short bursts of static.

"Strongman calling Barrel, come in Barrel!"

Aerrow grumbled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Every thirty minutes or so, Finn would call him over the communications link, attempting to disguise their identities via secret names for reasons unknown to the Storm Hawk. This one, however, was derived from Piper's tale on their escapades at the Talon Academy. Obviously, scrubbing toilets and obeying Snipe's ridiculous commands had made too much of an unfavorable impression upon the young Sky Knight and so he replied back, snarling his strained answer through clenched teeth.

"Finn, we've gone over this before, I-"

"Aerrow!" Finn protested, spilling his drink with a wave of an irritated hand. "I told you to call me-"

"Strongman, right. Finn, there's no time for this; we still need to find-"

"Piper, I know. **We get it, Aerrow.**" Something in the marksman's dismissive tone made the Storm Hawk so angry, his vision turned red"

"Piper's-"

"My friend too," Finn shot back. "I'm concerned about her just as much as you are, but you've got to get back to the ship. It's getting late, you haven't slept for the past forty one hours, and Stork says that a flock of Rekhyts are closing in on your location- and fast! ...Plus," he admitted quietly, "I forgot to tell you that we only have two fuel crystals left for the switchblade. I kinda destroyed the others trying to improve fuel economy on Junko's suggestion..."

"You... _what_?!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly my fault! We still have an ample supply for The Condor- I mean, we could fly for days before we'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere. So… yeah. Come back here before the big guy disembowels the Condor."

Aerrow gave the floating landmasses a sad look, knowing what either decision would entail. What would his team think of him if he went off to find her on his own instead? Suppose he got lost and accidentally brought his team into the dark depths of the Far Side; would Piper approve of him risking his life to find hers, even if it meant death?

He supposed not.

Radarr chirped morosely in agreement, reluctant to discontinue the expedition even as the physical and mental toll on his childhood friend grew worse and worse with every passing minute. Piper was every bit as important as the rest of them and had managed to weasel them out of situation after situation.

"Come on, buddy," Aerrow groused, adjusting the controls and rocketing away towards their flagship. "We can continue to look for her tomorrow"

The mission specialist settled unhappily on the hard bike seat, silently wishing his unofficial sister safe and well.

* * *

Intermittently scaling the lanky corpses and ensuring no wild beast came across the mogul's body, it was determined after several minutes' worth of surveying both geography and meteorology that she was on one of the less merciful terras in the Far Side.

Terra Tenebre. **_The land of shadows_.**

Not much was known about this particular terra. A day was wasted sifting through scantily detailed descriptions about this place and quickly doing a fly-over for navigational purposes. Tenebre wasn't so much as bad a terra as many thought; it was just hostile to many forms of life Atmosians depended on for survival. Terra Lacrimans, however, was a different story. It was like the Wastelands, only ten times as worse; many myths about golems and flaming elementals.

The Storm Hawk leapt from her perch and moodily kicked at the dusty ground. Cyclonis was still down for the count.

The sorceress's clothing was in tatters; the talons of trees long deceased had done their job. Piper frowned. Most likely, Cyclonis would need what was left of them to keep her warm. She knew that the elder mage could dismiss her imperial robes by holding the Cyclonian crest- maybe she could summon them at will as well?

She gently pulled the parachute off and closely inspected the wounds. It didn't look infected, and covering the wound had prevented most of the dirt and foul impurities from entering. By now, the blood flow had dried to a trickle and the surrounding fluid was beginning to crust.

Piper half-turned away, biting her lip in thought.

Figures. Of all the places in the Far Side she'd been to, it had to be Terra Tenebre. To top it off she had to be stranded on it with _the_ most infamous person in all of Atmos.

The navigator sighed, knelt, and started the agonizingly slow process of nursing her counterpart back to health.

As much as she wanted to leave the teen in the middle of nowhere, rule #62 of section 3, subsection gamma stated that all Sky Knights were responsible for rescuing all incapacitated persons as part of their duties as defenders and assistants of Atmos. This was because of a mishap that included an improperly discarded plant of the genus Musa, a 1,400 year-old stone landmark, and an Atmosian councilman returning from a business trip.

The mostly-deaf Storm Hawk tottering around nearby could not hear his cries for assistance and took no notice until the council member opened his luggage case and threw his garish, brightly-colored undergarments at the poor warrior's face. Needless to say, the ensuing conversation and subsequent attempts at public humiliation weren't unnoticed by the surrounding civilians, who took to sniggering quietly behind the embarrassed man's back.

Piper snorted derisively at the incident's memory. Finn, who could hear practically nothing over his awful guitar solo, would never live the memory down. Blocking out images of the Storm Hawk's intense facial scrubbing sessions afterward, she reached out half-heartedly for the unconscious teen when another thought crossed her mind.

_'But I'm not a Sky Knight, just the team's First officer...'_

The hand hovered inches above the matted, grease-laden dark hair.

_'But the handbook doesn't disclose what to do if it's an injured enemy...'_

Fingers twitched, but the hand didn't retract.

_'…Without her, Atmos would see peace for the first time in ages...'_

The limb moved away...

_'Still... the council would have my head if they found out about this when I finally get out of the Far Side-** if **I get out of here, that is.'_

Ah, screw it.

A hand plunged deep into her leather crystal satchel, hoping for the familiar curves of the recovery crystal. Stolen from the very heart of Cyclonia during one of Finn's many prankish escapades, it was the symbol of the Storm Hawks' rebellion during the last, great war between Cyclonia and the free Atmos.

Instead of the Nil crystal, however, light, dancing fingers found the sting of nine razor-sharp shards.

Hissing as their jagged edges bit into her skin, she pulled her hand back as if it were on fire. Pools of red soon blossomed, decorating the lacerations.

She dumped the contents of the pouch on the ground, soon handling a glowing green rock between clawed fingernails. Slowly, the scarlet liquid seeped back into the wound, and the cuts healed soon afterward, leaving no trace of them ever having blemished the skin.

And frowning, the mage tipped her head upward, only to find a pair of reproachful purple eyes.

"I suppose sharing that rare Nil crystal of yours is out of the question" Master Cyclonis snarled, simultaneously trying and failing to stand up, let alone slide into a crouch.

"With that attitude, I'm sure it's a light year away!"

"You're not skilled enough to efficiently handle a crystal of that power."Impatient, she snarled, making a grab for the rock, only to have her counterpart casually pull it out of arm's reach. "**Give me**-"

Per request, because she had "asked" so nicely, Piper complied by lightly knocking it against the side of her skull. Cyclonis, unsurprisingly, growled out a myriad of death threats. Cheerily, the navigator reminded the grumpy teen that she did in fact did efficiently use crystal on her- just not in the way the latter expected.

"You **have **to be careful on how you word your commands. Now, is there anything else you require,_ Master_?" Piper sneered, half-curtsying from her kneeling position. "Perhaps some tea and biscuits maybe?"

Master Cyclonis glared venomously at her fellow crystal mage, allowing no words to pass through pursed lips; instead, she hissed as the girl's efforts of straightening the fractured halves merely caused her more pain. With the prospect of a helpless Cyclonis, the girl momentarily discarded proprietary and, unfortunately, maturity.

She made a move to retaliate as the expert employed the Nil crystal's power, but gloved hands roughly pushed her against the ground. A set of tangerine eyes scathingly looked upon the enchantress with ill-disguised disapproval.

"Don't move," she growled, adjusting her hold on the teen as the emerald light died away. "There's-"

"There's going to have serious consequences involving permanent crippling, malformation, or death" Cyclonis finished, faking a yawn. "You do realize that I know about crystals too, unlike your useless Sky Knight friend"

At this point, abandoning and leaving her to suffer a fate worse than the Dark Ace's seemed appealing. A court martial, however, did not. But just to make boundaries clear, Piper deliberately gathered her crystals and started to casually walk away.

"You wouldn't leave your _best friend** forever **_to die alone here now would you,** Piper**?" the monarch called after her. "After I've saved _your life_, too..."

Cyclonis smugly watched as three particular words drove home and flipped a switch in the girl's brain.

"You... you...!" was all she could say; words died in her throat before her mind could even force them between her teeth. Instead, she settled for pinning the injured female against the barren earth and snarling her displeasure.

Infuriated apricot orbs met cool amethyst ones, burning holes through the latter's owner like acid. A centimeter's worth of space separated them; it was a miracle the Master displayed no sliver of fear, instead offering a toothy grin. The acute burst of discomfort was definitely worth the price of seeing the levelheaded teenager lose her cool.

**Hot breath fanned her face, tickling her nose. Mmm, halitosis.**

"You may have saved mine's, but that doesn't pardon you from taking away the lives of others!"

**A casual shrug and a cheeky smile.**

"I did what I had to do."

**A disgusted shake of the head and a jab of a finger against her abdomen.**

"Those people, those innocent people you killed… those homes you destroyed!"

**The recognition of her affably warm body on top of hers.**

"Ah, but that doesn't mean you can forget the fact that I still saved yours- your ungrateful, pitiful life- the deed which you reciprocated by nearly ending both of ours today."

**So warm, and so soft...**

"I didn't ask to be stuck here with you! We're still enemies, warriors on opposite sides of the war..."

**...And gifted with a resolute inner fire she secretly respected.**

"And still best friends forever" The edges of her eyebrows flattened out as a complacent grin replaced the smirk.

**A flicker of uncertainty within even warmer eyes.**

"A life for a life" Piper announced finally, receding ever so slightly and renewing her mending efforts. "Mine's for yours"

The burning the elder mage felt dulled over time as the Storm Hawk continued her ministrations, finally setting the bone back into its conventional position. Softly glowing, the crystal did its job, accelerating the healing process more than twenty times over.

Although Master Cyclonis couldn't honestly see what the helmsman was doing, she could _feel _it. Pulsing waves of heat proliferated through her battered body, soothingly nurturing her frame and rebuilding the shattered osseous matter. Only when the biological process of bone repair had passed the halfway mark did the rock falter, its effulgence fade, and its gift wither away.

Tossing the now-useless stone away, Piper worked on securing both legs to branches to keep them in place, tearing off more and more of her blue and yellow uniform and wrapping them around the fragile limbs as makeshift bandages. Even her headband went into the repair job, re-purposed to bind the petty scraps to the fresh injuries. Months of grudgingly acting as the team's nurse taught her a lot of things, such as never try to use high-grade blizzard crystals to prevent heatstroke in case of power failure while stranded in the desert- It took hours to completely remove all the snow from the Condor.

Finished, she leant away. A tongue ran over dry lips, flicking in and out nervously. Her midriff was exposed, and the fabric up to her knees had been torn away for a higher calling, leaving her boots. While the crystal meant Cyclonis was spared weeks of torment, the legs were still dangerously brittle and easily prone to being broken once more by some unfortunate event or another.

Cyclonis felt her equal wrap the last of her rags tightly around her thin, ailing body, all the while airily discharging verbal barbs of all shapes and sizes from the latter's skills as a medic to how silly she looked with her brightly colored squadron uniform torn to shreds.

Piper remained silent in the face of verbal persecution, merely surveying the landscape once again instead. Shelter for the following nights was an absolute necessity- high ground was preferable.

Large swathes of land were ravaged by fire, leaving in its wake charred grass and the powdery snow of ashes. Hills, few and far in between, dotted the landscape, some faring better than others in the aftermath of destruction. Tall, oblong structures decorated their peaks like lawn ornaments, a relic from past civilizations. Great watchtowers they were, large in size and heavily fortified to withstand the test of time.

Stone carvings sometimes accompanied the buildings, bestial in origin. Phoenixes, sphinxes, and legendary monsters of each and every size were strewn about this terra.

She frowned.

The closest patch of "safe" land was on the very top of the mountain two hundred and fifty feet from where she knelt. Two lone trees flush with dying leaves, protruded from the summit's edge, overshadowing the crumbling stone watchtower.

Normally, a person with broken bones would have never been moved after the cast was complete to prevent a lengthier healing process. However, Tenebre wasn't known for its hospitality who knew if fanged Wyrmuses or flesh eating Rykters dwelled nearby, as Stork repeatedly claimed? And what if this particular terra happened to be home to Rocs?

Now, Piper normally didn't resign to the pilot's paranoia, but this was an exception. A two-hour flyover didn't reveal much of a terra's diverse (and often dangerous) fauna. So, in absence of hard scientific data, her inner Stork guided her, showing her a slightly-warped path to survival.

A pair of chocolate-covered arms brought the young dictator onto their master's back. Piper bore the weight, using torn remnants of the parachute to secure her burden to her body. Then, treating her unwilling company like glass, she slowly started up the rocky surface on all fours, clawing her way up the acclivity.

Minimization of movement was a necessity when it came to handling semi-broken bones. Arygyn's training had served her well; compared to punching the two hundred and fifty pound-plus Snipe off the ground and nearly breaking her knuckles in the process, this was relatively a piece of cake. Her muscle mass had multiplied upon strength training in conjunction with Sky Fu practice; once physically draining tasks were made more bearable.

Sometimes she stopped, lying on her stomach whenever flat land presented itself, contented to watch time slip by with the mind-numbing speed of a snail. Nestled at the back of her neck was the jaw of the scowling dictator, unhappy with the arrangement, but grateful for the opportunity to study her rival closely. Piper would nestle into the earth and listen to the orchestra of wind and leaves for a moment then continue her arduous journey, pushing herself harder and harder the steeper the incline grew.

The change in scenery did little to pacify the ever-insatiable teen. So she spent her time trading barbs with her reluctant rescuer, sparring with cuspidate tongues and adroit minds.

"You do realize that I could simply just walk up the mountain," she resignedly intoned, sides already aching from being stabbed by her own weapon.

"Yeah, but I like having you close by," Piper snipped back, "it makes for an easier job as a babysitter."

"Babysitter?" Now Cyclonis was offended. "Please. Your skills haven't improved, even with those four children of yours."

"Then that makes **you **a screaming baby," a laugh strained by physical exertion forced its way out of the younger girl's throat.

A surreptitious elbow jab forced pointed steel into her back; Piper yelped as Cyclonis's staff dug into her flesh, the surprise almost enough to loosen her grip. "I'll take that as a compliment," the queen snidely remarked in turn.

Indignant, the crystal mage abruptly swayed her hips, allowing the violent movement to crush her nuisance's arm between her body and the rock face. The bonds loosened, allowing greater movement on part of the rider, also threatening to give way under her weight. The Master shrieked in terror before she could stop herself, once again digging her nails into the juvenile's skin.

"Royalty," Piper mumbled to herself, recalling the events with Perry approximately a year before.

Cyclonis was well aware of two things that utterly terrified her during the rest of the long, turbulent ascent to the summit. One: she relied on Piper for survival. **Two: she relied on Piper for survival.**

None of her Talons had followed her into the mostly unexplored realm of the Far Side. Her hurried departure marked by Cyclonia's collapse ensured that she had no reliable sources of food, water, extra clothing, or shelter. Her legs were still useless for the most part, which meant she could die at any given time if her caretaker chose to abandon her. And, most of all, her favorite general had exploded in a flurry of red dust at her hand, his body eaten away by the unbearable influx of crystal power provided by their unstable bond.

It was a suicide mission, really, a move of thoughtless desperation.

Power was her friend, her only friend. But even that was a lie, since her first real friend went above and beyond her duties by carrying her up a mountain to ensure her safety. And in her search for the former, she had lost herself in a world of nothingness, a dark void where dreams of all terras united under the Cyclonian banner lulled her to sleep.

The Far Side wasn't forgiving- it never was, and little Lark Cyclonis soon learned that lesson very well. Her search for the Borealis crystal in the dilapidated castle, believed to unlock multiple regions aside from this world, ended in failure, taking with it the sparse remains of hope she had left.

**She was going to die here.**

And as the watchtower grew larger and larger, dominating the foreboding landscape, the barrage of disconsolate ruminations only grew worse.

Who would love her?

**Who would even care?**

Lark's eyes stung, the edges prickling as tears started to form.

But she closed her lids tightly and refused to let them pass.

After all, only life and life-blood were acceptable sacrifices.

* * *

Meteorology is not just doing the weather forecast; it's a scientific study of the atmosphere. I used to think that it meant people gawking through telescopes, keeping track of each and every meteor in space that posed a danger to Earth.

Lark and Cyclonis will be used interchangeably to denote breaks from Cyclonis's (yes, I'm aware the additional 's' after the apostrophe is optional) natural forbidding character. As the story progresses, Lark will naturally replace Cyclonis in name and nature (but don't cross your fingers. I'm still not sure on the idea of a good Cyclonis).

**Did you know?** Human saliva contains opiorphine- a natural painkiller thought to be up to 6 times more powerful than morphine. I doubt Cyclonis would want Piper's spit in her wounds, though.

Chapter 4 coming in a few days!

**Rykters** (wRYKE-turs)- land-going species. Known for poison fanged mutations that injects deadly toxins into target's bloodstream.  
**Rekhyt** (wreck it/reh-keet)- Winged species built for speed and endurance. Underbelly, neck, and body interior are weak points. Immune to fire, energy, and explosion damage.  
**Wyrmus** (worm-us)- Blind land-going quadruped. A poor hunter, it relies on slow moving prey. It is unable to form strong groups with others, as each believes itself to be most important. It is known for its keen sense of hearing and can weigh up to three hundred pounds. Skeletal frame makes it ideal for resisting damage. Claws can gut the two above species with little trouble- provided it catches them first.


	4. Hunting Trip

Raise your hand if you understood the _true _intention as to why I named the crystal Cyclonis was searching for "Borealis" **_WITHOUT _**looking it up. Yes, there's going to be pretty colors later, but the crystal itself doesn't directly reference the Northern Lights.

**More useless knowledge: **Airplane wings (some commercial models, at least, like the new Boeing 787/Dreamliner) have the ability to flex upwards and downwards in order to displace the stress placed upon them by winds and pressure.

When I mentioned Aerrow's switchblade's wings angled to gain more lift at lower speeds, I was referencing commercial airplanes' ability to extend flaps/airfoils and slats from the main wings, which are used during taking off and landing. NASA explains the reason why pilots do that better than I can (plus, I don't think there's enough room to put sufficient information here without boring you to tears).

* * *

On the mountaintop, the stone columns surrounding the decrepit barbican stood side by side, silent guardians of the hill. Shattered monuments peeked at the world between the undergrowth, forgotten relics of the past. A lone tower was erected in the center, roof practically annihilated and bricks missing, a testament to its long history of braving battles and winds. From within its dying form, the soil nurtured a growing spruce, which formed an umbrella over the openings in the ceiling.

"Looks like a cheery place," Piper remarked, wrinkling her nose at the blatantly disheveled appearance the watchtower presented.

"It looks rather comfortable," Cyclonis confessed quietly, a surprisingly non-malicious look of dreamy contentment upon her face. "Deathly heights, lethal beasts roaming the terra, a forlorn environment… what's not to like?"

The Storm Hawk rolled her eyes.

"Cyclonians," Piper muttered.

"Cyclonian **royalty**," she corrected.

Gently, so as not to aggravate her condition, the monarch was deposited onto the earth and propped against the disintegrating tower's wall.

"Finally," Cyclonis grumbled, stretching her limbs and groaning loudly as vertebrae popped back into place. "I believe you've murdered my spine enough for one day!"

But Piper didn't hear her- not entirely, that is. She had done well so far, relying on instinct and planning skills born of defending Terra Neverlandis . The team would've been proud. So she basked in her pride, only snapping back into reality when a familiar rumbling roar carried across the land.

"I'm sorry," the navigator admitted, offering an apologetic smile, "I didn't think of bringing a snack when Aerrow and I spi_- I mean_, followed you."

"How quaint, the legendary Storm Hawks caught unprepared," a coy smile graced her face, the upturning of her lips growing as she cracked her neck. "I almost wonder how you managed to earn the notable distinction of being the last Sky Knight squadron to fall into my clutches."

"You might be losing your touch," Piper smirked. "After all, how else would an all-powerful sovereign completely lose an entire empire in less than two hours?"

The Cheshire smile slid from her features, drooping and folding over to form a half-grimace, half-snarl.

"That's a low barb from an oh-so-immaculate Storm Hawk such as yourself, _Piper_," she spat, glaring as the latter gathered her things and prepared to leave.

"Might want to rethink that."

Piper turned around, a questioning eyebrow cocked.

"To elucidate," Cyclonis snapped, "It is not wise to abandon an immobile person in plain sight"

The crystal mage tipped her head, concentration evident in furrowed brows.

"You're right," she admitted slowly, scratching her head, "Um… here, I think this will help."

So the Storm Hawk kicked a rudimentary camouflage cover in the form of several pounds of twigs and leaves over her peer. A bit of dirt was thrown into the concoction as well just for the heck of it. Piper stepped back, confident in what little survival techniques Aerrow taught her after the Zartacla incident. And in a rare spirit of dark humor, Piper removed the cordon from her back and handed it to the cloaked sovereign.

Cyclonis fingered the steel bird with interest, tracing the smooth curves with deft digits. It reflected, glinting dully in the muffled sunlight. Of all the Storm Hawks', hers was the smallest, meant to be nestled between slender shoulder blades. Now it rested in her enemy's cupped palms as if it naturally belonged there, a token of the blossoming trust between them.

"Why are you-?"

Piper shrugged nonchalantly.

"If I don't return, at least you have something to remember me by."

Crystal bag emptied once more- the powered stones themselves understandably within arms-reach for the downed girl, Piper set off in search of sustenance, crystal staff deployed and secure in her grip. She had given thought to giving back the fallen dictator her staff, but the shiny, somewhat murderous glean in the latter's eyes told her otherwise. Obviously, the earlier conversation was still fresh in her mind.

'_At least the crystals' effects won't be multiplied to lethal levels_,' she thought, stumbling over a surreptitious crevice as she moved farther and farther away from the monarch. Cyclonis laughed.

Travelling downhill was inherently easier- gravity simply worked in her favor. Piper swiftly rebounded from rock to rock, hands and feet using the uneven surface to their advantage. Without the pressing need to practically babysit a teenager with tantrum issues, this was actually kind of fun. Catlike, she landed in a crouch on firm ground and started to run, savoring the cool winds against her face.

The untamed lands were swarming with life in contrast to their temporary shelter. Torrents of rain had protected this ecosystem from the same damage inflicted by the lightning-born fire. Prickly grass taller than her knees swished gracefully in the tumbling wind. Here, the air was pure and free of carcinogens, lightly scented by the surrounding flora and fauna. In short, it was perfect for some alone time.

Insects of all species and kingdoms- including some that have yet to be scientifically discovered- flitted about, gathering food and rather violently attacking intruders with fist-sized mandibles and deadly stingers. Sometimes, mottled birds brushed past, talons wrapped around their prey of choice. Still, no mammals slow or docile enough that were worth chasing after graced her line of vision.

Gentle, strong, seven-foot-high beasts grazed on open plains. Their offspring stood beside them, swishing their tails and sharpening their growing tusks. Piper thought of bringing one back to the so-called campsite, but they reminded her of Junko and his charming demeanor. So she carried on, quite disheartened by the encounter. Sighing quietly, she allowed her drawn rod to be put away; no use having it out when there was nothing worth hunting.

She missed the goofy antics of her brothers, how they managed to accidentally destroy her crystal lab one way or another in their prankish efforts. She missed waking up at five in the morning by Finn's loud guitar music and stepping into the bridge to find a gigantic mess for her to clean up after. But most of all, she missed the assorted baskets of nutty fruits she came to know and love as her family.

Miles passed and she slowed to a stop, body covered in a slick layer of sweat.

The first idle thoughts that came to mind were why she had elected to assist her enemy willingly and why had she taken the liberty of extensively searching for sustenance on the dictator's behalf.

Perhaps the dictator had managed to tap into the natural motherly temperament she possessed and twist it to her advantage. It wasn't a far-fetched idea; after all, she had infiltrated their ranks and learned a little of their inner workings, their personalities, and their weaknesses. Such three aforementioned attributes were important in weakening an enemy.

But maybe…

Maybe… they were _more than friends_?

Laughing nervously, she hurriedly changed her train of thought. Small, non-lethal bugs could be their dinner if she managed to find some; they were rich in nutrients- protein, especially. If she had sniping abilities like Finn, she could build a bow and arrow and shoot the birds of prey out of the air.

The terra came to an abrupt stop, ending in the shape of a wickedly curving cliff. Below, putrid yellow clouds swirled, obscuring what lay below its protective cover. Still nothing to eat, and she'd roamed nearly the entire length of the floating block.

"Guess this field trip was all for nothing, then," Piper whispered to herself dejectedly.

Something cracked.

Dark ears pricked, intently searching for its source. Sharp eyes scanned above and all around, pupils darting to and fro.

Nothing.

She exhaled in relief, preparing to back away from the imminent danger that so adamantly stared her in the face.

_CRACK._

Piper froze, looking at her feet at the growing crevice and gulped.

'And then…' memory-Stork whispered in her mind.

**CRUNCH.**

The rock section she stood on suddenly gave way under her feet, coming apart in sizeable chunks. The Storm Hawk fell, screaming in surprise, fingers grasping and clawing at the air as if it would suddenly sustain her weight. Imagine her surprise when instead of coming to a rather messy end as a carcass, muddy water greeted her instead.

It engulfed her, frothing about vigorously like a racing horse. The freezing liquid practically suffocated her; an uncomfortable pressure on her chest caused her to gasp and lose precious oxygen. She could see nothing but darkness, closing in all around her like lions. The only thing she heard was the rushing current and death's hoarse breathing.

An unwelcome musing crossed her mind.

**_'_**_I'm going to __**die.'**_

Piper had never exactly been a good swimmer- an accident many years ago sealed her resolve to never have anything to do with water unless it was absolutely necessary for years. The events at Terra Tropica and while scuba diving two months ago had been a different story- she had friends she could rely on if things got hairy. But now, with nothing but rushing fluid surrounding her, she did the only reasonable thing to do- panic.

Feet churned the water beneath her as hysteria set in; thin arms batted up and down like demented wings in disharmony with the lower limbs. Piper was steadily running out of air, and she knew it. Darkness ate away at the corners of her vision, lungs burned for air. Her leg muscles were fatigued, tired with the effort of covering several miles in such a short time. It seemed her uncoordinated efforts merely pushed herself deeper and deeper into the stream's depth. An unwilling cough, a stream of bubbles escaped her mouth. Just as she began to give up all hope, something twinkling above caught her eye.

**There! Light!**

The teen surfaced, gasping for breath and clinging to the sunlight-mottled rock face with chipped nails. With herculean effort, she hauled another third of her body out...

...and started to slip as the weight of her body plus her sodden clothing pulled her down.

"No, no, no, no, n**o**!"

Gravity overcame friction. Her hold faltered, and she landed with a splash into the murky waters once more, ferried into a tunnel. The lack of light in there made her all the more claustrophobic. Death gladly took her in its hold, bouncing her against the river bed and triumphantly laughing in her ears. Thrashing quite helplessly, Piper surfaced, nose barely sticking out of the water. It was all she could do to not drown...

...Or burst into tears, seeing as the river ended in a waterfall that probably was taller than three Cyclonian battleships stacked atop each other once she exited the oppressive space.

A hand flailed at her back, reaching for her staff. Something cylindrical comfortingly pressed against her palm. Without thinking, Piper ripped it from the cloth's grip and, extending it, plunged it deep into the soft mud, establishing a tenuous anchor in the process.  
Gently, Piper guided herself to the river's edge, using the metal pole as a lever. Breath hitched in her lungs, she long decided that her respiratory system shouldn't be the reason for losing the one chance she had at escape, and so she pushed forward.

Long story short, it worked. She landed not too far from where she fell; Piper estimated only about a mile's worth of land needed to be covered. Here, in the enormous cavern hewn out of rock, an opening in the ceiling welcomed the cloudy skies above. Dripping water like a fountain and happy to be alive, the mage rejoiced in the sunlight, staff in hand. She relished the feel of metal, the acute angles of the many claw like protrusions- wait, what?

A quick dart of vermillion orbs proved it was not her weapon she had drawn, but rather her enemy's- irony at its finest. What was used many times in attempts to murder her had actually spared her life instead.

The river had deposited her adjacent to a pool whose mud had almost completely settled down thanks to the slower-running current the bite-sized stream it was connected to provided. Thus, the liquid appeared more appetizing, and Piper readily drank from it without further ado. Who cared if it had deadly water-borne diseases? Piper certainly didn't; she definitely earned it- or so her mind said.

A hearty burp soon followed afterward and a quick dip in the grimy pond filled the previously-empty bag to four fifths of the way. 'Cyclonis could have the dirt in her drink,' Piper thought. 'Serves her right for trying to take over the world'. As for food...

The cavern housed a very limited choice range to choose from.

Looking up at the stalactites, Piper wondered if bat-moles tasted good after being roasted. A cursory peek downward, however, provided a far more preferable option. Using her bag was out of the question; the water didn't need further contamination.

The fish were eel-like, long and serpentine, with vile-colored scales and covered in protective slime. Weird protrusions erupted near their fins, tapering off in ribbons of tan.

Piper set the weapon down and crouched over the water's edge.

"Gotcha!" she cried, triumph evident in her voice...

...but not in her hands, for they returned devoid of edible sustenance.

The fish swam at a lackadaisical pace as if the water was made of tar, mocking her inability to capture them with slow, graceful maneuvers. The Storm Hawk punched the ground in frustration, trying time and time again to catch the slippery vertebrates but failing. Casting a weary look upon the cavern, Piper lay back.

The black staff glinted in the muffled light. Emboldened, her face soon twisted into an insane grin, momentary depressive spell forgotten.

Perhaps something could be worked out.

* * *

The trip back to the mountain summit was slightly more eventful, seeing as she needed to escape and find her way back. In the end, however, the three pseudo-fishes still remained impaled upon the evil mage's staff, her bag's durability held true, and the Storm Hawk herself escaped with "minor" damage from a run in with a bear-like creature whose den she'd inadvertently disturbed.

Dinner was delicious, if not burned to a charred crisp by the queen's incompetence. Piper made no mention of exactly how she had captured the fish, and the rather irritable empress never found out. Telling your (more powerful) arch-nemesis how you abused their prized weapon was a definite no-no, especially if it was used to save your life or to scratch a rather bothersome itch on your lower back you normally couldn't have reached on your own.

"You look _absolutely_ dreadful, by the way. Why are you so wet?" Cyclonis asked in between bites, wiping dirt-laden hands on the grass. "Your hair makes you look like..." she trailed off.

Piper subconsciously stared at her orange headband, now in the other girl's keeping. It was a gift from her father, much like her necklace was from her mother. She'd worn both of them ever since she fled the burning remains of what was once her home. Amber eyes now twitched upward in curiosity.

"Makes me look like what?"

Cyclonis blinked, clearing the image from her mind.

"Never mind," the elder mage replied, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. "You look far more presentable with your hair down, by the way."

Piper was left scratching her head and the subject of her hairstyle never came up again that night.

The only remarkable thing about Terra Tenebre was its sheer weather pattern changes due to its unusual atmosphere. Some days would be unbearably cold, others would be swelteringly hot. Today, however, the temperature hovered around seventeen degrees Celsius- neither cold nor hot, but just chilly enough to be somewhat uncomfortable.

Cyclonis seemed comfortable enough. Piper, however, hated the unwelcome gusts of wind that chilled her to the bone, aided by her earlier swim and lack of protective clothing.

She flinched as another burst sent a chill up her spine...

...And reluctantly curled up next to the queen, pressing her side against the latter's while simultaneously trying to stay as far away as possible. Her back to unfeeling stone walls, Piper slowly drifted off into sleep, never noticing amethyst eyes intently watching her instead of monitoring the campsite.

The fire had long burnt itself out after consuming the last of its wooden fuel, and lying beside her as an easy target ripe for the picking was her arch-enemy...

...Who happened to be the only source of warmth left.

Unwillingly, Cyclonis closed the gap between them, pressing herself closer and taking in the other girl's scent as the latter's body heat brought warmth back into her freezing digits.

Sweat and motor oil, with just a hint of burnt hair stemming from minor accidents in crystal experimentation... not bad. A bit of blood would do her fine, though; it'd add color to her cheeks.

"Lark," Piper mumbled, and the dark girl nearly stumbled back in shock in response to her actual name.

Aside from that once incident approximately a year ago, nobody but her long deceased grandmother had used her true name- she'd almost forgotten it. A shame really, seeing as names held life-or-death power over Cyclonian royalty and they were best forgotten.

Cyclonis said nothing in reply, and the mumblings eventually dwindled to nothing.

The thick layer of clouds had thinned until Atmos's three moons were somewhat visible. Usually, it was a very good sign- one could determine his or her position based on their locations.

Tonight, however, they appeared alien. Even the air felt different, more sickeningly oppressive than usual. The Far Side wasn't the run-of-the-mill lost civilization. These terras' inhabitants weren't gradually wiped out by wars- something or someone felled them with a single blow.

Great power resided here- great power that any passing person could command and abuse to their will.

The Far Side never felt more foreboding until now.

Something bad, something terrible beyond one's wildest nightmares was going to happen, and she knew it.

* * *

The air was still, saturated with humidity and the stench of rot. Water dripped from cracks in the wall's façade, plinking against unfeeling stone. Undergrowth protruded from the same fissures, snaking around forgotten carvings and hieroglyphs.

A high ceiling arched above a storage of rare gems and invaluable treasures, hosting figurines of great gods and goddesses of the past.

Deep within the bowels of the ancient city, something stirred. From their supposed final resting place, dust shot into the air, daintily falling to the ground once more as a figure stepped through the partially-collapsed opening, wide-eyed and breathless.

"Finally…"

Soft padding followed as a small creature followed after him, uttering soft growls and sniffing at the ground.

"The mythic City of the Ancients..."

A small smile stretched on his face.

"She's here. I can _feel_ it."

* * *

**AN: **Please excuse my poor attempts at mimicking Cyclonis's speech pattern. Most of the things she says are meant to be read in a sarcastic tone anyway. Originally, there was a friend/foe moment between both Cyclonis and Piper, but it was cut out in favor of maintaining a slow build-up. At the end of this fan fiction, I'll probably post an addendum containing cut sequences.

I imagine the metal Storm Hawks logo on the team's backs had more than one single purpose. In "Number One Fan", Aerrow uses his to deflect a blast from a (presumably) low-grade Firebolt crystal.

As for Piper's bag, it's quite notorious for its hammerspace capabilities. It's little more than a size of an adult human's fist, yet the series has shown it capable of holding more than three good-sized crystals at once or even crystals larger than itself!


	5. Intermezzo: Piper

**AN: **While technically not a chapter, this short piece will attempt to explore Piper's character more, as well as dissecting the complicated love/hate relationship she and Cyclonis share.

**Inspirational Music: **"**Stand in the Rain**"- Superchick, "**Already Over**"- Red

* * *

_**"An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind."**_

**~Buddha**

* * *

**Best friends forever.**

Piper hated those three words, that title unthinkingly bestowed upon the traitorous girl lying next to her with her head on her shoulder and amethyst eyes half-lidded and clouded with sleep. She despised the crushing feeling of helplessness when the disguise came off and the overwhelming emotions came in. But most of all, she hated herself, for trusting this little sneak, for letting her emotional barriers down and letting her in.

But still...

Lark- no, Cyclonis had let her walls down too.

Piper threw more wood into the revived fire, careful not to disturb the queen. For days after the incident, she'd sit in her lab, playing with crystal dust and various gems of all shapes and sizes, absentmindedly reminiscing over the hours she spent with the empress at her side, just talking. Finn's unintentional comedic relief proved helpful in guiding her towards recovery's first steps. The figurative wound had begun to heal, scab over even, as the months slowly passed without further provocation. And then _she _opened her mouth and tore it open again, gleefully letting the gushing blood flow freely and leaving her to stew in her folly.

Now, sitting against the crumbling watchtower and keeping guard against nocturnal assailants, Piper mused, thoughts bleeding and running into one another like melting ice cream. Time was of little importance- she had relieved Cyclonis of night duty shortly before and dawn was four hours away.

Master Lark Cyclonis, empress of and heir to the Cyclonian empire. A snake hiding under the deceptive guise of a plain, innocent-enough looking bird. Diabolically intelligent and astonishingly cunning, she was hell-bent on expanding her empire by force.

Piper Ravenclaw, navigator, First officer, and crystal mage of the Storm Hawks. A little bird who has lost her way. A pentalingual skilled in lulling a Torka beast to sleep, infiltrating bases of evil brats, and having her plans ruined by her own team.

Fire flickered, producing a ghastly image within the depths of the girl's eyes.

Duality. Light versus dark.

"We're a lot alike, you and me," Cyclonis had said at Terra Tundras.

And as much as she hated it, she knew the teen tyrant was right- they _were _alike in many ways. Ambition, their love of crystals… these two were mere drops in the lake of similarity.

They were equal and opposite, mind-blowing paradoxes in the guise of simple human bodies. They shouldn't be sitting within three inches of each other without at first trying to tear the other's throat out. But they were different from each other, different enough that both of them knew that such attempts would only ultimately end in failure.

And yet they were alike in that regard.

Still, she wondered why she cared much for the girl beside her, using her arm as a pillow.

She wasn't part of the five (six, Starling included) that had grown on her like ivy, becoming part of her and her part of them as a family. Battle after battle only wove the closely-knit ragtag family together even tighter, refining their strength and devotion to one another. Conflict, while brief and sometimes tumultuous, ripped at the seams, but never tore the cloth altogether.

Cyclonis was ruthless in her endeavors. Her Storm Engine, had it been used, would've wiped out the majority of the world and its inhabitants. In the past week, she had destroyed nine terras for the sake of cowing the other nine hundred and ninety into submission. Heck, she heard from the Sky Knight council that her squadron of Nightcrawlers once killed off an entire village for the sake of obtaining the accursed, ancient door to this infernal place. By all means, nobody should love her, much less give her one iota of fearless, unadulterated respect.

But despite that, they were still friends and Piper still had no clue why.

Was it the promise they made, long forgotten? Perhaps it was the time they spent with each other, simply talking and laughing over trivial things? Or was it the way they danced in battle, trading physical and emotional blows while still maintaining Sky Fu poses?

Was it because she genuinely felt concern for the fallen queen? Because she felt sorry and empathized with her?

Piper nodded to nobody, flinching at the empress's sleepy moan of protest and closer contact.

Was it because deep down inside, she really believed that they still were friends because she had nobody and everything, and _she_ had everything and nobody?

Quite abruptly, the ghost her very own words struck between her eyes, a splash of ice-cold water in the passionate heat of armed confrontation.

"You may act all tough and destroy the world, but you can't hide who you really are- a lonely girl who desperately needs a friend"

And only then the full realization of her dying, echoing words- so carelessly tossed about before- hit her like a ton of bricks.

The Dark Ace was her only companion, her only confidant in the expansive and treacherous world, but he was nothing more than her champion, her top general dispatched for high-priority missions. A relationship between them was unthinkable- disregarding the ten-plus years in age difference, Cyclonis hungered for more power, without caring who or what got hurt in the process. The Dark Ace was a mere pawn in the game between Cyclonia and Atmosia. His abilities complemented hers, but could not push hers past their current level. He couldn't be the ruler Cyclonia deserved.

And so the mission for a subordinate, an apprentice began, one who she would instruct, foster growth in, and use for her own devices. Ever since the first mission the team had and Aerrows run-in with the dictator herself, Cyclonis had been researching what made the Storm Hawks tick, what made their attacks so well-coordinated. And then. her Talons had informed her of _her_, the navigator of the growing-in-notoriety Sky Knight squadron, sniffing about garbage barges with her team. People or hybrids striving to undertake the arduous tasks crystal mages faced were few and far in between, competent ones less so. Thus, the plan to induct the latter into Cyclonia's ranks was initiated, with only one slight problem- **the Storm Hawks**.

Perhaps the empress thought of them as nothing more than a motley group of kids working towards the same goal, associates, if you may. When their bonds were discovered, Cyclonis had to revert to drastic measures- befriending the enemy. Creating a friendly rapport was instrumental in the attempt to push the young navigator into Cyclonia's claws. Little did she know, it was only then did something awaken within her depths of her twisted soul- loneliness.

It was funny; friendship made you hungry- not for food, but companionship. Without friends, there was this sense of yearning, this feeling of dying a painfully slow death. Piper was her first friend. Piper was her best friend.

Her betrayal merited revenge for invisible lacerations brashly inflicted without second thought, innumerable scathing burns solidly dealt out without fear of retaliation. The younger crystal mage balled her hands into fists, shaking with suppressed rage. Thoughts of attacking the helpless, childlike girl poisoned her mind, disrupting the projected image of balance she had worked so hard to maintain.

Unbidden, an arm rose, cocking back in preparation for landing for the first shot.

A dozen minutes ticked by in the span of three seconds. Muscles grew sore but refused to yield; the flesh was willing but the spirit weak.

It twitched- a cobra with its brightly colored hood unfurled and fangs glistening, ready to strike...

...and fell to its owner's side limply, devoid of all energy.

Piper swore at herself and unconsciously held the-now asleep girl close to her chest, torn between duty and honor. A tiny voice in the back of her head demanded repayment in turn and in that span of a millisecond, the First officer was inclined to obey.

Then again, time healed all wounds, whether physical or emotional. Like grains of sand in cupped hands, they would slowly trickle out, no longer burdening those who held them with each step the holder took towards the future. Maybe they'd learn to get along with each other, toss aside their differences, and work towards a brighter future.

Piper bit her lip. Okay, maybe the last one was a bit of a stretch, but it was still worth a shot.

Lark Cyclonis had received her forgiveness- not all of it, mind you- just enough for the corrosive guilt eating away at the younger mage's insides to stop. Maybe she'd given Cyclonis more patience and understanding than she actually intended. Perhaps one day the whole incident would become water under the bridge.

After all, they were best friends, _forever_.

* * *

**AN: **The known Atmos consists of 1,000 terras, as implied by Aerrow during the second Storm Hawks intro. Cyclonis destroyed nine, Piper destroyed the other one... on purpose.

Hmmm... destroying whole terras... they ARE alike.

Piper wasn't meant to have a last name in the story. Upon editing it for the hundredth time, I finally decided to bestow a surname upon her for character development purposes. In keeping with the show's tradition of using bird names for practically everything (Aerrow was Sparrow, Junko was Junco in SH's beta, and so on and so forth), I borrowed her last name from the Ravenclaw house in the Harry Potter series.


	6. Minor Distractions

**AN: **I apologize for having not done this before, but I would like to extend my thanks to those who have reviewed this piece (in alphabetical order): ajsavestheday, cpt-nenharma, Gyroscope, Omega-Infinity, and Ventus Master! Although I will not directly state it in chapters (as I prefer to thank in private), I do read and appreciate every review I receive. In addition, Merry Christmas/Saturnalia/winter solstice/Isaac Newton's birthday- whatever you believe.

Like one of my previous works, Memento Mori, the events that happen here (**especially** in multi-POV chapters of three POV changes or more like this one) occur roughly at the same time of each other, unless noted otherwise.

Some CyPi friendship here. If you squint, you can see the actual pairing.

* * *

Tap tap, tap tap, tap tap, tap tap.

Rhythmically, four legs padded across the blackened earth, claws sheathed and ready to be sprung at a moment's notice. The Wyrmus snuffed the ground, its lion-like body nearly reduced to skin and bones. With little easy prey to readily hunt and a growing pack to care for, the alpha found itself becoming desperate for food to stuff itself with- any kind of food. It'd even resorted to sneaking out and feasting on insect carcasses on nights such as these- shameful behavior for the higher-ups on the food pyramid.

The famine grew worse with every passing day. Potential meals migrated, flocking to other terras by wind or by chance passings when the neighboring terras floated within paw's reach of another.

And so, tongue lazily lolling outside of the quad-split muzzle, it trotted the plains, searching in what appeared to be another fruitless recon. It stopped at the edge of the forest, preparing to return to the den, when its nose suddenly picked up on a scent that hadn't been common as it should have over the past few months.

Ecstatic, the blind beast followed the odor, panting more heavily with every bound.

Now at its source, it paused. A ribbon of red cautiously wound its way towards it, lapping at the dirt and carrying it back to its owner, retreating inside the warm, toothy cavern it called home. The Wyrmus licked its lips, satisfied and pleased with its find.

Blood.

Fresh blood.

It cocked its head and sniffed the air, inhaling the faint stream of smoke. Ah, fresh quarry.

Long, rabbit-like ears flicked to the skies, finely attuned to compensate for lack of visual feed. They swiveled at their bases, already encountering the first of many sounds from its target.

Not too far from where it stood, something moved, making incomprehensible noises.

A black nose traced the stream of pollutants. A mind whirred quietly, crunching data far below the conscious level. Levels of vocal activity and pheromones were passively absorbed, taken into account. Claws extended and retracted- byproducts of apprehension and a life-time of experience. A slender, whip-like tail skimmed over the tops of charred weeds, striking the ground now and then.

For a moment, the Wyrmus lost itself within its thoughts. The prospect of a secret meal appealed greatly- survival was of utmost importance. Then, the penalties incurred upon completion of the act nagged about his mind. Its kin would dispose of him upon finding the scent of meat upon him but finding none ready for them.

Deciding it best to inform the pack of the situation, it turned tail, choosing the needs of its hunting partners over foolish impulses. The quarry appeared only little threatening, with at least one of its members wounded.

The famine would end.

And with a light bounce into the collection of wooden skeletons, it vanished without a trace.

* * *

Master Cyclonis was an early riser by nature. Years upon years of tending to her growing lands forced more responsibility upon her bite-sized body and so caused many sleep-deprived nights and fitful naps. Many of them were routine- wake up, smell the choking smog of a hundred functioning factories, see the blood red skies of Cyclonia, and immediately attend to matters over breakfast. Because she slept in the clothes she usually wore during the day in case of attacks, her mornings usually were monotonous and streamlined.

Imagine to her surprise when there was no smog, no blood-red skies, and no annoying generals griping over their newest losses. Instead, there was Piper, Piper, and **more Piper. **No sun to turn her attention towards, no particular odors to investigate, just _Piper_. Becoming adjusted to the abrupt environmental change after becoming used to one for years was hard enough; having your sworn enemy practically in your face was like asking her to find a special grain of sand on a desert terra.

But her head registered warmth- soft, warm warmth that supported her neck and provided a comfortable place to rest her head. The girl's particular scent drifted by her nose soon afterward and, tilting her head upwards, drank in the weary look on her face, the way her eyelids would droop before snapping back to attention for a few seconds, and the miniscule yawns that slipped from pink lips every so often.

Both crystal staffs lay at her side, nestled in the singed grass and ringed by soft crystal light. Cyclonis reached out and wrapped her fingers around hers, relishing the feeling of familiar cold steel. Home is where the heart is, and Cyclonis carried hers with her at all time.

The exhausted Storm Hawk seemed to notice the movement and gently moved the girl off of her, clumsily staggering to her feet.

"Sleep well?" Piper asked, stretching her arms and groaning as several pops indicated bones snapping back into place. Her legs were incontestably sore from sitting in one position for far too long, and Cyclonis cutting off circulation to both of those limbs didn't help matters at all.

"Mmm," she replied, already missing the close bodily contact her peer provided. "I promise to keep you alive when I finally rule over all of Atmos. Your friends... I may spare them on a whim."

Piper snorted derisively, not bothering to retrieve her weapon as Cyclonis had done. "That's **if **you conquer it- over my dead body."

"That can easily be arranged. It'll be a shame to waste such talent in crystal mastery, but I suppose I can make an exception for you."

Piper rolled her eyes and curled up next to the wounded adolescent, shutting her lids and allowing her muscles to relax. The Atmosian sun had yet to rise, leaving the area cloaked in shade.

"Your turn for watch," came the muffled response.

"Apparently, you have failed to take in the position of the moon. It is still _your_ watch, not mine's."

An annoyed mess of blue hair rose to the skies before swiveling to face her. "One, you can hardly see the skies at all. Two, if I complete my watch, you can hunt for breakfast. Three, you owe me."

The empress huffed in exasperation. "In case you haven't noticed, I can't move very well, much less forage for any kind of food."

A pebble struck her arm.

"There," the navigator replied. "Rocks are edible. Dirt is edible. There's your food."

"I refuse to lower myself to your standards, Storm Hawk. You may enjoy them with vigor, seeing as these are delicacies for you and your little friends."

On her part, Piper looked positively affronted. "Everything here is technically edible. Some of them won't agree with your system and may kill you."

"Speaking from experience, hmm?"

The head descended and weariness crept into her voice once more. "Cyclonis, please let me rest. I'll even let you have some of my food. Knowing you, you'd scarf every bit of morsel you can find here to regain strength ASAP. You're too proud to show weakness"

"Begging your worst enemy for favors, are we?" Cyclonis jabbed her in the side with a finger and mockingly whispered in her ear. "Such a child."

Piper lightly batted her hand away, squeezing her eyes shut and nestled into the earth's embrace. "It's precipitately becoming hard to reconcile the tough-as-nails empress of Cyclonia with this behavior. How the Dark Ace's sanity managed to survive this long will forever remain an enigma to me."

A long, slender finger toyed with a lock of phthalocyanine blue hair, tugging it free from the tangling mass before allowing it to fall back into place.

"I enjoy bringing a sense of spontaneity to my underlings and especially my best friend."

No response. Cyclonis summoned her imperial robes and, ever so gently, drew them over the Storm Hawk's lanky frame, wondering why she hadn't done so the night before.

"Sleep well, Piper," she whispered.

Pulling away, she suddenly remembered that she still hadn't returned the cordon back to its rightful owner. Hiding behind the emblem of Cyclonia, the bolt-ridden steel avian logo lay safe, close to the heart of the foe and shielded from the dangers of the outside world.

Storm Hawks.

That very word sent a concoction of emotions running through her system. A curse, a blessing in disguise- who were the Storm Hawks?

Lightning Strike, Finch, Heron, Magnum, Bolt, and the Dark Ace.

Aerrow, Piper, Stork, Junko, Finn, and the little hairy pest.

Birds, the whole lot of them- the reformed bipedal Hawks, at least- in name and nature. Freedom was their birthright, the skies were their home.

And although she was one herself, she found that she couldn't (or wouldn't) fly. An interesting paradox; one part of her name exactly reflected the core values of her companion while the other represented destruction and responsibility, the antithesis of the freedom she longed for.

Ah, but she digressed. Prerogative was something that would always exist out of her reach and infuriatingly so. How she envied this girl for always flitting in her vision, mocking her, reminding her of what could have been had she not been elected to rule.

"Yes, sleep well, best friend, for the hour the dagger will pierce your heart will not be known."

* * *

A cup of tea sloshed within a cup of fine china as a hand returned it to its partnering saucer. An intricately carved wooden table supported the small trinket, polished to a dull sheen. Bookshelves stacked with tomes filled with rather uninteresting subject matters lined the walls, a monument to the hundreds of years wasted on near-worthless research. 'Management Made Easy: How to Properly Remove the Hair of a Raven-tailed Fox-Cheetah from Velvet Furniture,' was displayed proudly in gold letters on one such book's spine.

Today, the blinds weren't drawn, allowing sunlight to spill into the room and touch a Solaris crystal. Pink and white cloth fluttered gracefully in the wind.

Someone breathed.

Princess Peregrine lazily stretched herself out on the padded chair, toes wriggling inside stiflingly miniscule two-inch heel shoes like worms. What normally was a sign of great contentment was actually a display of great irritation. Of the very few that truly knew her, none knew what ailed their mistress nor did they understand her change in demeanor.

Three weeks, six days, two hours, and thirty-five minutes since Klockstoppia's subjugation.

One week, two days, five hours, and six minutes since the collapse of one of the most powerful empires to have existed on Atmos.

Four days, ten hours, and eighteen minutes since her terra's revolt and subsequent victory over the defeated Cyclonian forces.

Hard to imagine one team of kids could tip over the first domino, ignite a revolution, and start a chain of events that would alter Atmos forever. The fireplace crackled merrily behind her despite the warm weather. The page turned, a nail tracing over the words.

**One, two.**

Slender fingers wrapped around the teacup's handle and brought it to dry lips.

**Three, four.**

The hot liquid scorched her insides, kindling fiery warmth within.

**Five, six.**

"Princess?"

**Seven, eight.**

"Gerald," Perry greeted quietly, arching her neck slightly to face her faithful servant. "What news of today?"

**Nine, ten.**

"The bodies have been recovered. The burial ceremony will take hold tonight at sunset. The Regent wishes to be excluded from the event, as it will interfere with his duties in restoring the kingdom."

Perry nodded, suppressing her rather venomous distaste of the man, and fully turned her body towards him, tipping her head downwards to signify respect towards the fallen warriors. Of course the Regent wanted to skip it; he was too busy stripping the monarchy of its powers and giving them to himself to do anything else.

"Atmosia has received your letter," Gerald continued, fussing with his suit. "It reports that all known Talons and Nightcrawlers are in full retreat. As to where they reside, the location is currently unknown, but the speculation is the Wastelands."

Another stiff nod.

"And the Storm Hawks?"

"The Sky Council has reported that the Storm Hawks squadron still have yet to be seen returning from the Far Side of Atmos, my lady."

A dismissive hand gesture in the form of a wave sliced through the air.

"Thank you. That'll be all."

Gerald bowed and left the room. Perry's voice brought him back.

"My lady?"

"Have the crystals stored in the main chambers transferred to a safer location. My studies regarding them are irrelevant at the moment and I do not wish for another attack on the kingdom by any wandering Cyclonian- especially Nightcrawlers. Their raid on the crystal chambers two weeks ago ended in a disaster, as you know."

The balding, short man bowed quickly, a hand holding his ill-fitting wig in place.

"It will be done according to your wishes, Princess."

All alone once again, Perry turned back to her book and tented her fingers, studying the language intently. The words were clear as day, yet they made little sense to the tired teen. She had been in the courtyard one day, enjoying the flowers when all of a sudden, a strange bird flew into the garden, sending her entourage into a screaming frenzy.

Fascinated, she chased after the brightly multi-colored bird, intending to capture it and study it within the great hall of the castle before releasing it. Faster and faster it flew, weaving in and out of curling ivy arches, leading the girl away from the thronging mass of confused bipeds.

She had gotten within an arm's length of the avian when suddenly, it disappeared into thin air. In its place, a man stood, donning clothes with the same color palette the fowl had.

"Piper!" he happily exclaimed, seizing her gloved hands in a whirling blur of green, blue, and orange and shaking them rather violently. "Oh, am I glad to see you!"

Perry recoiled in horror, wrenching her limbs out of the strange man's grasp.

"Who are you!?"

"Don'tcha remember kid? Arygyn the Skeelur? Terra Neon?"

She shook her head.

"Wait a minute," he quaked, pulling away from the princess and studying her intently. "You're not the Storm Hawk…"

Realization set in.

"Oh no… this is bad…"

"Sir- er, Arygyn?"

"Listen, kid," the Skeelur urged, clasping her thin fingers once again. "I don't have much time until my duties here on the Atmos are fulfilled and my presence here is no longer needed. If you see her, tell her to find the lost City of the Ancients! She'll know what to do when she gets there!"

And so, ever since the man vanished in a whirl of color and feathers, she'd been devouring chapters after chapters, hoping to find answers. Piper herself hadn't visited the terra-not directly, anyway.

During Cyclonian rule, she'd glimpsed the Storm Hawk flying high on her heliscooter. Although a bit greener than normal, she otherwise appeared healthy and well, happily sabotaging the enemy's defenses and allowing the Klockstoppian resistance movement to gain momentum. Before she even got close to the crystal mage, however, she'd already flown away with the rest of her squadron, leaving behind seeds of hope in her wake.

Perry shut the book with a snap and straightened up, placing the leather-bound collection within the mountain of decaying tomes. The book had divulged some of its secrets to her, but not enough to tell her what the garishly-dressed man meant. However, learning about the intricacies and mystery surrounding the decrepit city gave new life to an old flame of hers, one born of resolution.

A hand stretched out and closed upon the Solaris crystal, a reminder of nobility and bravery- the very two things she'd displayed during the Princess-and-Piper incident.

No more lying around like a helpless damsel in distress. No more adhering to propriety to maintain favor with extraneous ties. As of now, Princess Peregrine was determined to take back her kingdom in its entirety- Regent be sentenced to an eternity in the Wastelands.

A photo of her most favorite Sky Knight squadron in the Atmos danced in the breeze, tacked to a wall as sunlight splashed upon its face, illuminating the insane grins of six (and a rather laughable expression of one).

* * *

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

The world tumbled and spun, colors blurring and running into each other like wet paint. Cyclonis resisted the urge to vomit. It was like she was stuck in one of Cyclonia's great washing machines, forced to ride out the wash cycle amidst hundreds of foul-smelling Talon uniforms. How the empress wished she could undergo that torture rather than dealing with this situation- at least it would stop after an hour instead of persevering, a razor-like thorn in her side.

"Stop wriggling," Piper barked, struggling to support the teenager. "You're making this more difficult than it already is!"

"Be thankful that I have thought to use my staff as a crutch, otherwise you'd have to support the entirety of my weight," the monarch forcefully replied through clenched teeth, carefully ambling down the rocky path.

"Can't be as bad as your breath, Cyclonis. You could've conquered the Atmos with it."

On and off, they slung barb after barb during their descent, taking care to reserve the most acidic of their retorts for last. Now at the foot of the mountain and staring at greener pastures, both quieted, allowing the blessed wind to speak for them.

"Why can't we just light a large fire? The smoke would be more than enough to attract the Condor."

"Why Piper!" Cyclonis fake-gasped, "I knew you admired me, but I had no idea you wanted to destroy an entire ecosystem for the sake of being rescued."

"I'm just saying. You idea isn't much better."

An eye-roll answered her.

"You think it's here?" Piper asked, shifting her foot to make the empress more comfortable.

"I wouldn't have come here without a plan," she lied. "Of course it's here! The Far Side of Atmos is known for its vast array in crystal technology. Surely they would have a storage for them. Who knows? Perhaps a form of transportation would be there to greet us as well."

"But on this particular terra?" The technician questioned, sparing her elder a hasty glance with wide, confused eyes. "It doesn't look as if it would hold one crystal, let alone an entire cache of them!"

Cyclonis laughed, "Appearances deceive, young Piper," and brushed against her, urging forward. "You forget we're no longer in familiar territory. The Far Side's ancestral inhabitants certainly cloaked its treasures well... A shame you lacked books on the matter. You would have become as good a crystal mage as I am."

Piper wrinkled her nose and mumbled barely loud enough for the sovereign to hear, "I've made it far into the world **without** them." And then, speaking louder, "I've mastered the binding in ways you fail to understand in far less time, journeyed into these lands- a feat thought impossible by many, **_and _**helped defeat the strongest armed force in Atmosian history!"

"But your studies could have progressed rapidly, had you accepted my offer and agreed to becoming a Cyclonian," Cyclonis pressed.

Quite suddenly, a rather violent fit ran through the youngling's body, sending tremors so intense that the latter honestly thought her mad.

"What makes you think that your books could make me betray my family?" She snorted in between fits of giggles. "You forgot a crucial detail in your scheme all those months ago."

At the mage's puzzled expression, Piper explained, "We're too different."

"Care to explain? If I recall correctly, we share a multitude of behaviors and preferences with each other- crystals, to provide an example. If we're so 'different', as you tactfully put it, why help me, the very girl your Sky Knight vowed to defeat?"

By now, the two had crossed over to fairer ground, where Mother Nature dared show her lovely visage. Seizing the opportunity to rest, both friend and fiend collapsed in an exhausted heap on the ground, facing each other with curiosity and contempt.

"You are a principled independent with a dark side,"

"Tell me something I don't know!" Cyclonis roared, clutching her sides in vain attempt to stifle laughter. "If you believe you can analyze me, pick me apart like one of your crystals, you're more than welcome to try."

An annoyed glare robbed all but the tiniest traces of understanding compassion from the navigator's face. Then thoughtful, she chose her next phrases, often taking care to pause in between and let her words sink in. Gentle breathing filled the spaces between to the world's heartbeat.

In, out.

Respiration occurring at the subconscious level. Slender legs tangled and curled around one another. The heavy scent of exotic plants covering their musky ones. Eyelids batting settling dust from bright amethyst orbs.

Time and space suspended in that microsecond.

"You desire to escape from your troubles, but fear this action will destroy what you've achieved... Your conflicting emotions sometimes cause you to be irritable and impatient when your needs are not met... You feel agitated... anxious... vulnerable... You fear failure, in other words. Because of this, you are sometimes needlessly cruel.

You, Cyclonis, see leveraging your abilities to stay strong in the face of adversity as key to your emotional satisfaction. Taking over the entire Atmos is just a face for you to slip on, to deceive others with. You are sharp and discerning, as well as a great believer in your strengths and skills- a warranted response, given all you've done in your short life."

The owlish blink of sunburst-vermillion eyes, ever analyzing, gauging the heir's reactions and drawing upon them before turning heavenward.

"I pity you- I really do, as strange as it is. In the dark, you've stumbled and lost your way. In your quest to bring upon yourself the ultimate fulfillment of your selfish desire, you've awoken something on an apocalyptic scale."

Here, her voice turned darker, taking on slight sinister undertones much like the empress's upon provocation.

Piper continued, "You've taught me more than you could ever know. Justice is subjective. Good and evil are tidal forces, ever set against one another for dominance. You take what you can from the innocent and leave the weak to your cruel forms of mercy. The Atmosian dream is dead.

So you wander. You search. You devour hundreds of books like chips, one right after the other. You take up the task of crystal mastery to foster knowledge and understanding. But still, despite all of this, you fail to comprehend who you are- a lonely girl who desperately wants a friend."

"And you?" Cyclonis ventured, reluctantly spitting those two words as the dying echoes of the reiterated phrase faded away. "Who are you?"

Time thawing out and resuming its normal course. A fallen empress, battered and weak, reduced to less than nothing with only an unwilling companion to accompany her descent to madness. Space crashing down around them, its tingling shards like broken glass, music to their ears.

A single, world-weary sigh.

"Perhaps I'm an enduring fighter with masked passions. Maybe I identify as an autonomous striver with hidden strength or as a troubled individual with unique abilities..."

A mass of blue tilted towards clearing skies.

"But who I am is of relatively no concern to me. Although I wish to discover what I'm meant to do with my life, I cannot escape the fact that my duty as a Storm Hawk remains paramount. For now," Piper finished, straightening up and offering a hand to the downed empress, "Let's concentrate on our mission."

"Agreed," Cyclonis yawned, hobbling to unsteady feet. "The longer we spend here, the less sunlight we have to guide us. Conserving crystal expenditure is key to our survival."

"And plan B?"

A smile that never reached her eyes spread itself upon the monarch's face.

"You're the Storm Hawks' tactical planner. I'll leave you to figure it out."

* * *

"I can't figure this out," Finn complained, setting the glowing stone upon the work table among its crystal brethren. "I take back everything I said- this crystal stuff is hard."

"Well, that's because you're not following Piper's notes," the Wallop replied, taking a seat next to the marksman and opening to a random page littered with diagrams and equations. "See, this triangle means a crystal is, uh, fiery and... dangerous. This circle- actually, I don't know what this circle means. The description's too wordy to understand."

Two scrawny arms flailed in the air and collapsed bonelessly onto the couch, sending unarmed arrow shafts flying into the air.

"See? No wonder Piper cleaned out our supply of Atmosian coffee beans last week. Crystals can make you crazy."

"Ah, don't worry, buddy. Aerrow can probably help you. He knows lots of stuff about crystals. Plus, the sooner you get your crossbow reloaded, the sooner we can go out and find Piper!"

At this, the sniper brightened and punched Junko's shoulder in exultation, immediately wincing when knuckles met metal armor.

"Oh man," he moaned, clutching his wounded, rapidly-swelling hand. "How could've I forgot?! Of course Aerrow would totally know something about crystals. Thanks, Junko!"

"No, Finn, wait-!" The Wallop cried, but the teen was already gone in a flash of blue and yellow, carrying his portable crossbow in his arms.

"Aerrow," he panted, bursting into the bridge and startling Radarr, who had been napping near the entranceway. "I need to know how to construct new-"

"Can't it wait?" the Storm Hawk anxiously interrupted, poring over quasi-detailed charts of every shape and size- all of the same area. "Stork's discovered a disturbance in the lower southeastern region of the Far Side, which-"

"Is near where Piper fell!" Finn finished, beaming, practically bounding over to the round table Aerrow stood at.

"Precisely! It's about a hundred miles north of Terra Celestia, where the Sky Castle was. I'm not sure how Piper could have made it that far overnight, but she's a Storm Hawk. Anything's possible for her. I mean… except for that one incident back on Atmosia…"

"Aww right! So we find Piper, put Cyclonis behind bars, and speed off to Atmosia for a heroes' welcome! Awh, chicka-cha! Stork, set a course for... uh... wherever terra Piper's on."

"So we fly in near-zero visibility conditions, evade countless flesh-eating beasts, hope that Piper hasn't encountered her… _doom…,_ stay alive, and keep the Condor II's paint job intact. Gotcha," the Merb replied sarcastically, mumbling to himself. "So thrilled. This is the most fun I have _ever _had. So glad that I kept this job."

Unbeknownst to the Storm Hawks, however, somebody was watching the Condor through makeshift binoculars as the massive ship skimmed through the cloud layer.

"Storm Hawks," he mumbled. "It's been a long time- far too long for my tastes. Don't worry," he continued, reaching an arm back and wrapping his fingers around a rugged crystal-powered blade. "We'll meet **soon enough**."

* * *

**AN: **Woohoo for Perry! I hated how she was only a one-shot character and so gifted her with an appearance here. Don't worry, her section is of relative importance I wouldn't waste space here otherwise.

On the subject of Cyclonis's 'magic' robes: Episode 27 showed her capable of vanishing it into thin air before she initiated a battle with Piper. Perhaps she has the ability to summon it at will?

"Regent be sentenced to an eternity in the Wastelands"- Replacement of a more colorful phrase that goes along the lines of "[name here] be d***ed". This and other edits will be made to keep in line with the show's dialogue structure. No potty mouthing here.

Cyclonis is about two inches taller and 5 months older than Piper in this story. Both are approximately 16-17 years old, given my reasoning (my suspension of disbelief, rather) from having a younger brother around that age range. Plus, they look too old to be 14. Purely going by the show, their heights are inconsistent. I was unable to gauge a reliable height, even when they were standing next to each other in episode 6. According to Absolute Anime, Cyclonis is 5' 6"; Piper's 6 inches shorter. Cyclonis weighs 102, Piper at 96. I do not follow these aforementioned calculations here.

However, both Piper and Cyclonis appear (and are most likely) underweight and will likely suffer from health complications (i.e.: brittle bones) in addition to easily perishing in this portrayed situation.

One last thing: Piper's analysis of Cyclonis's personality comes from Byzantium tests, which is sadly no longer offered on the site. I actually got Cyclonis's personality result and was assigned as a tactical/communications expert (can't remember which one). Scarily accurate, this personality test was, along with the last test.


	7. Rapture

**AN:**I apologize in advance for this long read ahead of you. To make it less tedious and monotonous, I've broken it into two parts and interspersed both of them with POV switches.

Side note: This site has mauled several of my chapters by eating some of my words and punctuation. Sometimes, it's understandable, like when I try to insert a link and see most of it removed upon publication. Other times, like with the last chapter with Cyclonis and Piper's heights in the AN, it's not. Apparently, trigger words like "pounds" and "weighs" sets it off- I had to reword the bottom footer/Author's Note several times to get the information to properly show up. Maybe the site thinks I'm going to fat-shame the readers?

Anyway, I should get to making a rudimentary map of my Far Side realm soon. Upon completion, it will be available on a separate Tumblog, which I will dedicate only to my art and some incomplete pieces of writing (that may or may not contain spoilers for future chapters). Main chapter texts (chapter fragments more than 500 words each) that are housed on my Google drive will be shared upon approved permission.

**Earworm music:** "Bãtutã din Moldova"- Rabbids Go Home

* * *

On the move.

Duck, jump, left, right. Swing past the den of sleeping Badger-Moles. Slide under low-hanging vines that trap even the strongest and wisest. Don't forget to double back to cover up tracks.

**Stop.**

Sniff the air.

Breathe.

**Run.**

Under the blinding sun, a single black-furred Wyrmus crept within the heavily timbered forest, melting into a pack of seven, each matched in size and strength with few variations. Among them, the leader One-Eye stood, now perched atop a slanted rock. His long slender tail fanned the air behind him, poised and erect. The chief himself did not seem too pleased with the current state of affairs; the focus on the famine was marred by seasonal testing as the cubs matured and sought higher places in rank.

He, who had an entire half of his face ruined by the previous leader, prided himself upon cunning and instinct. Strength came naturally and so was paid little attention to. It took unusual circumstances to foster and develop sense of wit in order to succeed as the new alpha. However, certain disruptions in the pack could liquefy his rank, especially if the whole of the group was turned against him.

Turning his scarred muzzle towards the squabbling six, One-Eye snarled his displeasure and flashed his teeth, taking care to send a clawed paw in the general direction of the group. Nail met flesh, and four jagged bleeding marks soon appeared on a youngling's back.

Yelping, omega faced alpha, claws extended and ready for a fight as well. He was silenced, however, by the throaty growls issuing from other pack members- those loyal to One-Eye had forced a mutually beneficial alliance and resented any threats to leadership stability.

Defensively backing away, it waited until the threat of tooth and claw passed before venturing forward again. Pain naturally came as an unfortunate consequence to his low standing within the group. Therefore, avoidance and placation tactics grew in skill in tandem with planning.

Satisfied when order returned and blissful silence reigned, One-Eye raised a paw and lightly tapped it upon the ground, all while thumping his hind legs aggressively in conjunction. To outsiders, it would have appeared as if he had suddenly became stricken by rabies. To the pack, however, it meant something worth chasing after in the dance of life and death.

Food.

One-Eye finally sprang away, managing to gain a respectable distance before the others followed, hot on his heels, alert of the nipping teeth that would surely inflict pain behind them.

By nonvocal speech, word had spread of easy prey. One-Eye's scouting had turned up this bountiful find, miraculous that and in of itself.

And so, lost in the chorus of panting breaths and whining, the hunt began.

* * *

"We've got to move faster! Run! They're gaining on us!"

A discordant screech rang in their ears. A chorus of furious flapping wings sang, overpowered by a cacophonous cascade of squawking.

"You didn't have to startle them!"

"It's not my fault! You screamed in my ear and I fired in self-defense!"

**HEEEYAAARRK!**

"What in Lightning Claw's name-!?"

The thump of flesh against rock as the two broke apart amidst a swarm of very angry raptors.

A whimper of unadulterated terror, cut off by a sharp gasp of pain.

"L...Lark! H...help me!"

A desperate hand, reaching, torn by many...

"Piper, I...!"

**CRUNCH**

* * *

Drip… drip… drip…

Far below the surface terras of Atmos lay the rent remains of what was once the greatest empire of all. Beyond shattered glass and torn metal amidst rocky debris lay the former locus of power, soiled in the wastes of its once-proud sweatshops.

Clack, clack, clack.

A slender female frame stalked through the ruins, casually strolling along the decrepit paths that once used to be the grand hallway hundreds of Talons once ran through in preparation for battle on her command. The doorway to her left used to be their barracks. The floor below housed the kitchen, which produced an unusually wonderful quality of food. She sighed, savoring those sweet memories, and turned, a relic of the past. This was all behind her now and a new era would begin after the age of the Storm Hawks.

**Storm Hawks.**

So her advice to that pathetic ragtag bunch of snotty kids had been useful after all…

Not that she was going to thank them for kicking the witch off her throne, of course. They were merely her pawns.

Strolling to what once was her commander's quarters, she blasted open the entrance with energy slash of her violin bow. Eerily, the double door creaked on its hinges before falling to the floor with a 'whump'.

"_Master_, I'm home!" the purple-clothed lady mockingly called, putting a hand to her ear.

Only silence answered her.

Ravess laughed loudly and sashayed into the destroyed chamber, kicking aside metal detritus.

The room was in complete disarray. Master Cyclonis's hasty banishment to the Far Side hadn't helped matters either. Fallen supports intermingled with shattered ceiling plaster. The Cyclonian emblem was completely destroyed, large gouges easily marring what little recognizable remnants there were. Crystals of differing abilities and grades graced the slanted room, softly humming in various frequencies to each other, waiting to be picked up and wielded.

Yellow, hawk-like eyes scanned past the ruined books and damaged machines until they found what she wanted- the shards of the Aurora stone.

Lying in a heap accompanied by its shattered glass container, they pitifully twinkled in what little light the ruins provided. Little did any non-Cyclonian know, they certainly weren't destroyed, even going so far as to retain quite a bit of their power. Smirking, she retrieved and stowed them away in a burlap sack.

The sniveling brat had tried many times to restore the rock to its former state, unhappy with her first major failure and the temporal loss associated with her Storm Engine's construction. The Atmos had almost been destroyed by her hand; she was so close to achieving her predecessors' dreams- that is, until that redheaded good-for-nothing destroyed it with a single blow.

Taking only a few books that contained matter relative to her interests, the former general swiftly departed. Crystal usage was practically unknown to the markswoman, aside from the one snugly held in her pouch. One dash to her skimmer later, and she was airborne once more, feeling the familiar warm, smog-laced air against her face.

Banishment to the wilderness had taught her how to endure. How to live. How to** survive.**

It was time for a change, and she knew just where to start.

* * *

The convening of the Guardians was an event known for the marking of a change, whether it was in rule or in rules. Kingdoms rose and fell according to their decisions, which were moderated by a small group of five elders insistent upon maintaining the balance of the Atmos. The high council laid the foundations to the Atmosian democratic-republic, and so were highly regarded by all who took the time to delve deeper in history.

Most notably, Arygyn himself was present, jutting out like a sore thumb amidst the monotonous clothing of his fellows by his tri-colored outfit. The trainer normally concerned himself in guiding heroes and allowing them full access to their powers. This time, however, was different.

With the Storm Hawks gone and that part of the prophecy fulfilled, a new meeting began to mark the dawning of a new age.

So the council of five and the lesser group of fifteen took their spots within the vast underground chamber, their hooded faces lit by flame.

"Brothers and sisters of the covenant," one of the elders declared, rising from his sitting position. "We are gathered here today to draw a new course for the Atmos. With the recent fall of Cyclonia, those terras long under Cyclonia's rule are in disarray. Some denizens plan a reinstatement of the monarchy, a new empire, and a new ruler of Cyclonia rather than a parliamentary system with directly elected officials."

"Impossible," Felix objected, standing tall in the air. "Terra Cyclonia has fallen into the void and Cyclonis herself left no living relatives!"

"Cyclonia... has no need for living relatives," the elder, Xerxes, replied, sweeping a frail hand in the air in an overly-exaggerated arc. "Cyclonian rulers are not genetically related in any manner to prevent family rivalry for power. In the case of an attempt in decapitating their authoritarian regime, any higher ranking official is eligible to succeed the former ruler. Thus, the state is left intact and the government itself remains institutionalized and civil societies can remain suppressed on the successor's whim.

"In any case," he continued, stroking his long, white beard; "the future of Atmos-"

"**I **have divined the future," Egret boisterously interrupted, rising to his feet. "And it does not bode well for the Atmos."

"Master Egret, please-!"

"I too have seen the future," Cyrus announced, cutting his fellow off before he could speak further. "But I have seen hope."

"Master Cyrus!"

"But I saw-!"

"What **_everyone_** sees is irrelevant," Xerxes trumpeted. "Whatever the future has planned for us will _come to pass_. The Guardians are not to directly influence history through any means- a lesson that every man and woman gathered here should embrace in their hearts. Remember Krow?"

The Guardians nodded in fearful unison. Krow had been an influential member many years ago, assisting the council in any way possible and acting as an informant within the growing Cyclonian empire. But as the years passed, he grew more unstable, developing beliefs deemed too radical by peers and empowered alike. He had taken a prophecy to heart and had committed unforgivable atrocities with his gifts, believing himself as the catalyst to paradise, the panacea to all ills.

Needless to say, once the council found out, Krow was never heard (or seen) from again. Not dead, no, the council didn't believe in execution. Krow was banished to a deserted terra far from Atmosia. Perhaps he escaped to the Far Side, perhaps he had indeed perished, as the grapevine rumors claimed.

Arygyn displayed no emotional response, silently wishing he had ignored his summons once again. The well-known unfortunate story of Krow was used to keep the lesser Guardians from doing anything else but watching and waiting, prophesying from a distance. How he despised the elders for resorting to this shameful tactic instead of taking charge and showing leadership, as evident in past generations.

An ounce of prevention had saved the Guardians from becoming all but extinct, yes, but what was the threat of death to them when they lived abnormally long lives?

Felix gave Arygyn a knowing look, which the trainer returned. The Storm Hawks had indeed crossed over into the Far Side, fulfilling the part of the prophecy of an Atmosian future without Aerrow, but what about the other half of the foretelling?

'The bloodline of Derecho will rise as protector, but will vanish as when the Atmos would need him most. And _she _will unite the terras as one'

Would the world be united in treaty? In arms? In one single landmass?

Not bothering to listen to the councilmen as debate raged anew, Arygyn silently slipped away with his unspoken questions, jumping over the cliffside and transforming into a Mynall bird as he fell.

The Guardians were restricted by code, blinded by routine much like a certain squadron on Terra Rex. Unwilling to take direct immediate action, they sat by the sidelines, idly watching the present as if it was a play. Only he, Felix, and two others had decided to do something about this predicament, often meeting in secret under the dark of the night sky.

Perhaps it _was _time for change.

* * *

**Pain.**

A razor-sharp beak slashed its useless eyes, forcing it away. Blood showered from the open wound, staining the grass a brilliant red hue.

The raptor waited until the slobbering beast charged before smashing its wing against the side of its jaw. The attack failed to halt the paw's momentum, however. In retaliation for its now-useless appendage, the lizard-bird sliced at its tendons, managing to slice through only a nonessential few at a given time.

Shaking its blood-matted fur, One-Eye raised his hackles and flashed the whites of his teeth as yet another blow tore his muscles. Then, lunging for the kill while it recuperated, he closed his jaws around the hellish bird neck. It convulsed thrice in its death throes, the fangs easily punching through the thick feathery flesh and gnawing on the remains.

Raising its head, his licked his lips and nursed his wounds. The quick meal served only to whet his hunger. Blood led him here. Blood brought him to the sight of the two creatures it sniffed out hours before. Blood entangled him and his pack within a short encounter with their prey before a pillar of pain smashed against his body, burning away fur and flesh.

And he had emerged from battle neither victorious nor vanquished, merely scarred. So the pack rested, feasting on the husks and taking momentary respite.

In conjunction like a pair of well-trained dancers, both ears and nose scanned the air, flicking to and fro. A minute's search yielded no results, nor did five minutes' worth- there was simply too much interference on part of the mammals that lived here.

Then, the scent of fire caught his nose- the same odor that grazed it upon brutal impact.

They were still close by.

Ducking back into the tall tree-line, One-Eye didn't bother to wait for his teammates. This was his only chance before the Rykters migrated to these lands to compete for food and he certainly wasn't going to waste it. Time was ticking, and the countdown for their survival started.

* * *

**Clunk.**

Thump, shh.

**Clunk.**

Thump, shh.

Cyclonis grunted in exertion, leaning on both staff and 'servant' as droplets of sweat ran down her forehead. One shaky foot was placed in front of the other, both decorated in lacerations. Piper silently provided a steady stream of encouragement by practically tugging her along, willingly allowing the girl to use her arm as a crutch.

In the distance, the sun finally began to disappear over the horizon, giving way to darkening skies with a fading golden radiance. Sheets of pinkish yellow soon began to follow the sun's wake, casting a multicolored glow over the landscape.

A voice broke the continuous loop of dragging feet and stabbing staffs, cracked and fragmented by happy disbelief.

"We're here. We're finally here!"

The Storm Hawk blinked. Tenebre's landscape yielded nothing but rocks, dirt, and little plant growth. Sadly, no tumbleweeds crossed their vision for comedic effect.

The younger mage merely nodded in agreement, not bothering to hide her skepticism as the approaching stone wall yielded nothing that denoted it as different from its surroundings- not even a single hieroglyph. However, the expression was ruined, foiled by Lark's quasi-relieved smile and uncanny cheers after nearly fourteen hours' worth of continuous travelling.

Cyclonis pulled away, limping over to a particularly immense mountain. Unsurprisingly, it looked nothing out of the ordinary.

"The great ancestors of the Far Side built this to house some of their greatest weapons before their extinction," Cyclonis whispered, allowing her fingers to roam the rock face. "Great architects they were, choosing to conceal important structures within their environments rather than construct them in the open unlike their warring counterparts. Only a special symbol known only to few detonated their existence. Understandable. To reiterate, they housed elemental weapons, crystal technology far beyond the fevered dreams of Atmosia's greatest thinkers..."

Chipped nails brushed away the dirt layer, revealing thin streaks of color.

"...Which are now at our disposal. It should be opened immediately!"

One grand sweep of her arm, and a primitive design came to light for the first time in centuries.

Piper, who had been silent for the rest of the trip after the 'incident', looked upon the avian symbol and shivered involuntarily. For some reason, this certain design sent unpleasant feelings down her spine unmatched by the Black Gorge, Cyclonia, and the Leviathan combined, intensifying second she locked eyes on it.

Was it Stork speaking through her, whispering death and disease?

"Wait," she cautioned, throwing out a hand and wrapping around Cyclonis's outstretched one. "We don't know what else could be inside."

"Please, like anything could be alive after being sealed for hundreds- thousands of years, even. I thought Storm Hawks were brave, if not _annoying_ fighters,"

"I'm not sure about this place..." Piper continued, fidgeting nervously. "I mean, in the Forbidden City, traps that seemed to have no obvious power source still worked perfectly."

"Have_ I _lied to you?"

Pause.

"I mean, in this very area?"

"You mean in this three by three meter space, or on this terra?"

"Never mind."

"Um…"

"In _any _case," Cyclonis continued, suppressing the urge to taunt her rival for her misplaced misgivings. "Whatever it throws at us, I'm sure we can handle with..." here, she withdrew the Blazer crystal from her person. "...A little help. After all, we were fortunate to have this with us when those things attacked."

Piper's hand flew to her neck, where the little blue crystal hung- a nervous tick developed after her parents' deaths that only emerged when company was scarce. Her fingers hovered over it, but never once did they make contact.

Unnoticed by either mage, the crystal, hanging around the latter's neck started to glow a dull, comforting blue, pulsing to an inaudible heartbeat, glowing brighter with every step closer to the structure.

Raising her crystal staff towards it, Cyclonis shouted phrases the First officer recognized as a part of a "dead language" seldom used by non-historians, commanding the door to open and its secrets to be revealed.

No reaction.

Realizing that the Ancestors might not have used this language (her grandmother's tomes did inform her that they used a variety of dialects instead of having a set one used by all), Cyclonis tried again, spewing command after command in differing tongues, one right after the other.

Still nothing.

Thinking the door mechanisms had partially rusted over and the process itself would take longer than usual, both crystal mages exchanged rather unimpressed looks and waited...

And waited...

And waited...

And waited some more, until Cyclonis's thinning patience snapped. Piper watched with no small amount of amusement as the teen shouted incomprehensible gibberish and furiously smashed the wall with fists and steel- a rather hilarious change to anyone accustomed to her cool demeanor.

"How dare you defy us! We travel for over half a day, become open to attacks by surrounding wildlife, resort to eating charred bird corpses...!"

"Uh, Cyclonis?"

"...And rancid ones at that...!" she continued, pointedly ignoring the darker skinned girl's waving hand.

"Cyclonis, helloooo? Atmos to Lark? This is not helping..."

Still the flames flared on and the spew of colorful swear words increased.

"So with all the power of Cyclonia and the might of my ancestors…!"

The childish temper tantrum grew worse with every passing second, making the younger girl quite antsy. Cupped between her palms, Cyclonis cradled a rapidly-growing ball of fire. Feeling intense heat waves wash over her form from the girl's use of the little scarlet rock helped matters none whatsoever.

"...Righteous and furious anger…" Cyclonis hefted the missile above her head and prepared to heave it…

The slender fingers drew nearer...

"Prepare. To. Suffer. My. **_Unconquerable wrath!_**"

... And touched it.

The crystal flashed.

At first, nothing happened. As seconds ticked by and the frustrated lambasting by the empress reached its climax, something shifted and a thunderous crash shook the building to its core. Previously hidden symbols flared to life, decorating the rock face in a golden effulgence and forming a radiant halo around the bird.

"What the-?" Cyclonis shouted in shock, stepping away half-dazed as a metallic groan escaped clashing gears and a doorway started to appear from the depths. "I don't believe it... The lock securing technology made by the most legendary citizens in the Atmos opens by... senseless physical abuse?"

"Apparently," Piper breathed, still taken aback.

The door rose...

Both Storm Hawk and Cyclonian excitedly peered inside, faces affixed in laughable goofy grins, expecting a hoard of crystals to appear before them...

...but deflated as nothing but a dark tunnel awaited their company.

"Well, so much for that. After you," Cyclonis mock-bowed.

"Talons first," Piper snorted, giving the girl a light shove in return. "I insist."

* * *

From great caverns to rocky precipices, the land was covered in red and black. Volcanoes decorated the barren lands, embroidering the heated ground with ribbons of red and orange. Black smoke rose into poisoned air, sending soot far and wide, where they fell like snowflakes on a winter's day.

The Wastelands are understandably treacherous, especially towards those attempting to seek asylum there. Snipe knew this very well despite having navigated this terra for very different reasons. Clutched within the claws of a thoroughly battered Fire Scorpion, the lesson hammered itself into his thick skull once more, bounced around uselessly within empty cranial space, and died on deaf ears.

"Coward! Sneaking up like that," he snarled, raising his weapon above his head and driving it home in the elemental insect's skull. "Snipe **_hates _**bugs!"

The Fire Scorpion trilled angrily upon impact, increasing the intensity of its hold in response and preparing to jab its stinger through his overly-muscled, ape-like chest.

"Oh no you don't! Snipe is going to **_smush _**you!" Tree trunk-like arms waved the crystal-imbued weapon, swatting away the appendage with minor difficulty and fending off similar attacks. However, even for a man as well-toned as he was, fatigue soon began to creep in, eating away at his muscles and turning them into rubber. Taking advantage, the latter readjusted its grip and eagerly clicked its mandibles, preparing to sink them into his flesh...

…Until purple slashes rained from the sky, easily cutting through the bug's claws and freeing the hulking man from its grasp.

"Huh?"

The fight all but forgotten, the ex-Talon ignored the wounded beast as it skittered and hissed in agony, eventually ending up tail-first in a patch of hot lava. Eyes struggled to focus as a moving red streak sliced through the smoky atmosphere.

...and widened upon realization.

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

"Brother," Ravess greeted, landing the switchblade adjacent to a flowing river of fire. "It's been too long."

"Too short by my tastes," the sibling grunted, turning around and stomping away. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be rotting away or something?"

"For your information, I escaped. I am surprised to see that you haven't kicked the bucket, dear _brother. _But… I suppose I can put our differences aside, for the better… I came to form an alliance, now that the child-brat is gone."

"Dead?" Snipe questioned, pausing momentarily to cast a hopeful glance at his older sister.

She shook her head, and the little joyous spark in his eyes died away.

"Unfortunately, no. She merely crossed over using that Far Side door of hers. The Storm Hawks followed her, you know, so they're out of our hair."

"I don't need you," he spat, fingering his mace and aggressively finishing off the Fire Scorpion, only to find himself surrounded by three others.

"Clearly," Ravess yawned, pretending it inspect her nails. "Well, this should be interesting to watch..."

Less than three seconds later, Snipe went down as the uncontested loser, having been defeated at a speed worthy of a world-record few would be jealous of.

"Help," grudgingly wormed its way out of his mouth.

Ravess obliged. Soon, the trio was reduced to a blackened, smoldering pile.

Nodding to her recovering, incompetent brother, the female ex-general beckoned with a finger.

"Now that you're done playing around, we have work to do. Follow me, unless..." she paused, allowing the elemental beasts to finish her sentence.

Yelping as a spout of flame scorched his backside, Snipe ran past her in whimper-filled bounds, almost splitting her skimmer in two upon landing.

* * *

The farther they went, narrower the tunnels became, often dividing into multiple directions and ending in dead ends. The air was hot, musky, and stale, having little ventilation for centuries. Fat droplets fell from cracks on the ceiling and pooled on the ground. In time, the deterioration of the building began to show more and more; impassable obstacles forced the duo to travel in a single line more often than not.

Piper led, holding the blood-red stone above her head to light the way. Cyclonis trundled behind, neither content nor contempt. Not only was it more efficient to simply be dragged along instead of slowing both of them down, the Storm Hawk served a suitable body shield in case something happened to be alive down there. The dull sting of becoming the follower instead of the followed, however, wasn't so pleasant. Ah, but she digressed. At the moment, continually being in a very vulnerable position hurt her pride more than any follow-the-leader spell could.

If there was thing the Storm Hawk was right about, it was the part about traps. Many a time, billowing clouds issued from small crevices above the floor panels with the clear intent of instantaneously poisoning both women. Not only did the Ancestors attempt to murder robbers and the curious alike by asphyxiation, painful disembowelment was also offered, judging by the humanoid skeletons littering intersections, spears and curved scimitars in hand. Both girls unanimously decided not to touch the weapons for fear of activating an actual, working trap.

And still they persevered, stubbornness naturally a part of their nature, steadfastly ignoring foul smelling assassination attempts ("Are you positively sure you're not trying to kill me?"), bizarre torture devices ("Ah, the old eye-saws… My grandmother used to use them. I'd welcome them into Cyclonia any time..."), and Lark's rather sigh-worthy quips ("Hey!"). Run for six miles straight? Trampled upon by 200-plus pound beasts? Almost stung to death? All in a day's work for these two. Might as well get the whole thing over with rather than prolong their suffering.

The Blazer's flickering orange glow bounced up and down with every footfall, casting light upon undecorated walls and spreading warmth to their weary bones. In a way, it was comforting- having a source of illumination to cast away the potentially lethal blackness of unknowing, that is.

Speaking of which...

The darkness around them was a peculiar sort. As they journeyed on through the seemingly endless halls, it began to choke the fire-light, slowly reducing it to a near-smoldering flicker. Piper certainly failed to notice this- her sleepy mind directed all resources to finding alternative paths (that, and staying awake).

Cyclonis, however, had the luxury of daydreaming and so fared better when it came to bringing herself out of her mindset to observe her environment. During the course of their trip inside, she'd noticed several things. One: They're claustrophobic (who wouldn't after being in cramped tunnels for hours?). Two: The Ancestors were more paranoid than she was. Three: Piper's necklace glows brighter than the Blazer crystal for some odd reason.

"Your crystal is glowing," she remarked, casting a rather scrupulous gaze at the blue rock for what seemed to be the millionth time.

"Huh, wha-?" Piper yawned, shaking herself awake and casting a sleepy glance at the rock.

"The crystal," she slowly repeated; "Around your neck. Is glowing. You know, for someone I admire as an equal in crystal Mastery by self-teaching, your rather disappointing processing speed perplexes me."

Curious and curiouser. The Storm Hawk stopped and cocked her head, raising the blue shard to the air and earning a disgruntled response from the girl behind as she crashed into a mass of hair.

"Sorry," she apologetically mumbled, walking slightly faster. "I got this from my mother... She said her great grandma gave it to her when she was little. I thought it lost its imbued ability, being so old and all. That doesn't mean that I haven't been trying to figure out what it was, though..."

The girl trailed off as the tunnel abruptly ended. Forcing the Blazer's remaining luminescence to die away, she held her necklace, allowing the little crystal to give light to the chamber.

Here, the ceiling arched high, supported by grand stone pillars hewn from great mountains and embellished with symbols. Like the cramped passageway, it was filthy, waterlogged, and caked with debris. To the side lay undisturbed treasures- golden trinkets, silver goblets, and the like. At the end of the room, a lone throne sat upon an altar of stone, presumably left to rot while awaiting the return of its often-absent Master. Above it, a winged figure protruded from the shadows, surprisingly still intact, given its environment.

Grand marble flooring covered from corner to corner, discolored and ruined with the passing of many centuries. Streams of water quietly ran through the wall-holes, guided by rough metal into a trough, where it collected and flooded. Adding to the tragically beautiful derelict nature, painstakingly arranged mosaics graced the wall, juxtaposing senseless battle scenes and serene landscapes with fluid transitions.

"Wow... What is this place?" Piper breathed, running her fingers along chiseled tablets, reading the engraved words aloud and paying little heed to the alien grammar and punctuation denotations.

**Pause.**

Cyclonis's visible eye twitched in agitation.

"I don't believe I've heard you correctly. You see, on Cyclonia, speakers who spoke exactly as you did just now would be immediately executed. In lieu of a reason to actually proceed with that, I ask- no, I **demand** you to read it properly. Speak slowly and _clearly_."

She read it again, murdering countless ancient pronunciation rules along the way. To her credit, however, she did speak more slowly.

"The tablet clearly addresses this specific location's history. Nothing too informative, in case you were going to ask," Cyclonis answered, voice still laced with annoyance. "But..." her agitated speech gave way to a more curious tone; "there's something that I've only heard about in myth... something that I'd long dismissed as fantasy... it calls this place... Rapture."

Piper's necklace instantly responded to the name, bathing the entire room in a blinding flash before receding. Autonomously, the symbols took a life of their own, flaring cobalt one right after the other. In the darkness, fragmented sentences came to light, bearing messages in near unreadable text. Like the language gifted to the block, they were written in different tongues and brought focus to the room's regalia.

"So this is Rapture..."

"It's not just this place, this entire side of Atmos is called Rapture."

"I wonder what happened to it..."

"Who knows?" Cyclonis shrugged, hobbling past the stupefied crystal mage. "Even my _superior_ learning cannot shed ample insight... But I do know that we may be... um... stuck in here for an eternity. I kind of... '_accidentall_y'..."

"What did you do?" Piper growled; the empress fidgeted nervously, looking everywhere except into the girl's eyes.

"I think I might have touched something when you weren't looking and sealed the entrance..."

"Great!" Piper shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. "_**Wonderful**, superb_!" was subsequently followed by her head lightly slamming against a stone column.

**Thunk, thunk, thunk**

"Are you..." Cyclonis hesitated, concern for another individual's life still a foreign concept to her "...alright?"

**Thunk, thunk, thunk**

"I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life..."

"Don't worry," the ex-ruler consoled, uncertainly draping a slightly-trembling arm over the girl's shoulders, pleased when it wasn't shrugged off. "I hate your life as well,"

**Thunk.**

"_Thanks_," Piper sarcastically replied, twisting her neck to face her. "You've made me feel a _whole_ lot better about myself."

"No problem!" came the cheery reply.

"Well," the navigator sighed, turning her body completely. "If we're going to be stuck in here forever, at least we might as well find out more about this place..."

Cyclonis beamed and led her to the front of the room, her orchid eyes lighting up with pride as familiar emblems surrounding the fowl centerpiece came to light, all branching and connecting to one another. This she definitely knew about; the scholars that tutored her taught her far beyond the curriculum offered to normal Atmosian children.

"For starters, we can dissect the symbols that the Ancestors used. They may be the key to figuring out what your necklace fits into the scheme of things. Look!" Piper ducked as an arm shot out in excitement. "There's the crest of Terra Potens! The badge of Ala! The red flag of Ignis! They had the most legendary armies known to man. There's even the seal of… Cyclonia? I understand my family line extends for hundreds of generations, but…"

Piper peered over the empress's shoulder. Immediately, all color drained from her face and she wished she hadn't done so. Tucked in the corner her parents' coat of arms sat adjacent to ones belonging to her distant relatives, peeking out a little from under Cyclonia's crest.

Nervously, she swallowed and nudged her rival in the abdomen.

"I think I understand... It's a family tree..."

* * *

**AN: **In a parliament-monarchy system such as the one implemented in the UK, parliament has more power than the actual monarch(s), who are seen as (a) figurehead(s) only. The definition of a state is not merely constricted to a country sequestered into pieces- a country can be considered a state based on its political structure (i.e. a democratic state, a totalitarian state, etc.). Quizlet gives a more accurate description of a state because this isn't my AP Comp Gov classroom (and I don't feel like wasting time writing its definition and expanding on that).

For any unusual fantasy creature noises I write in for this story, think of a pterodactyl. Now try to type out the noises it makes when its throat is stung by wasps. Or, if you feel like being lazy, look up a L4D2 Hunter's "rabid squirrel-esque" pre-pounce shriek. There you go. Congratulations!

Happy New Year to all readers, and a joyous rest of the holiday before you have to go back to school or work!


	8. Dreams, Destinies, and Domiwick

**AN: **Usage of first person POV may occur after this chapter to introduce more description (but will most likely be seldom used due to old habits). Also, thanks for the 900-plus hits!

As promised, the Atmosian alphabet (10 letters have been directly lifted from "What got into Finn?") and numbers has been posted. I will try to revise and update the alphabet whenever I see a better symbol within the show that can be used in the place of the letters/numbers.

**Chapter Music:** Black Blade, Calamity, Flameheart- Two Steps from Hell

* * *

Cloaked within the cover of cirrostratus clouds, the Mynall bird soared. Its beaked head swept to and fro as blue-tinged wings fanned the thinning air, searching for an old friend. One such acclivity stood out to his keen eyes, and so he shot inside, gracefully morphing back into his humanoid form with little fanfare once landing upon the uneven floor.

Two yellow eyes flashed with a burnished gleam from the inky darkness. Seemingly pupilless, they tracked the man from his hasty entrance to his adroit transformation, neither expectant nor judgmental.

"Master," Arygyn bowed, greeting the occupant of the cave on bended knee; "I have come to seek your wisdom."

"Indeed you have, my old friend," a voice rang out in the depths, trembling with age. "I have foreseen your visit. It's such a shame that it comes at a most inopportune time."

A feathered head emerged, adorned with long, wispy plumage stemming from the base of its beak. Underneath the ceremonial headpiece, a wizened yet kind face protruded, wrinkles creasing into a slight smile. Swathed in clothing paying homage to bird worshiping rituals, the elderly man grinned, elevating his arms in welcoming- two wing-like structures attached to his thin limbs rising with them.

Arygyn humbly made the motion to bow once again, but was stopped by a wing gently lifting his head and directing his gaze towards his own. For a man appearing so old and fragile, he was surprisingly imbued with strength gifted to few of those his age.

"You need not bow to me, dear Arygyn," he reminded. "Performing it once is enough to last for a lifetime."

A wingtip extended towards the straightening trainer and flapped once, offering a gesture of peace.

"Forgive me," the Skeelur replied, standing tall. "I have been delayed by the Guardian Council. There has been news of Cyclonia rising despite lacking its namesake leader."

"It is of no matter," the Master replied silkily. "What is of utmost importance that we proceed with affairs as soon as possible. What news do you bring to my doorstep- or rather, to me?"

"From what I gathered during my brief sojourn there, the plan to resurrect the fallen empire is in motion, although neither a clear plan nor the movement's leaders have been divined by either the elders or the seers."

"Pah," the Master snorted, waving a hand dismissively. "I give them fifty years, and they've still shown no progress in their abilities. Continue, please."

"The prophecy has yet to be fully completed, although the last descendant of Lightning Strike has taken up the call and left the known Atmos for the Far Side. As for the girl, well, she has yet to realize where she fits into all of this. As you had suggested, I tried to find her, but ended up with Princess Peregrine in my travels instead. By then, it was too late."

A pause, and then an answer followed, laced with defeated sighs.

"I understand. It is on my negligence that I have failed the Atmos. You see, it was my duty to find young Piper, not yours, and by shirking my responsibilities, has... well, let's just say that we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Rest assured, the end will justify the means, although I cannot say for certain what will come out of it."

"Time is running out." Arygyn coughed, twisting his lanky figure towards the sunlight and clasping his hands behind his back. "I fear the worst has yet to come."

"And as Guardians of the Atmos, we shall respond. What does time have on one who is cursed to never die?"

The Master flexed his wings and straightened his body, feeling the light breeze sweep past his small body. As if on command, his outward appearance started to change, time's wrath melting away and turning his features soft and smooth once more. Years fled, and with a stunning flash of light, a pure white bird hovered where a man once stood.

"We both have been running away from what we should have bravely faced. For that, we must pay the price- whatever it may be. As mentors, we do not yet know the consequences of our failure, but we must proceed now before it is too late.

"Take heart, my old friend, I will find her. I shall return at the dawn of the fifteenth day."

"But it may be too late!" Arygyn protested, whirling around to meet the changeling's cool gaze. "Don't you think that Cyclonia wishes revenge for its defeat? We've only managed to catch a handful of the hundreds- maybe thousands- of Talons roaming around the Atmos!"

"So it may seem," the bird-man replied smoothly, fanning his tail feathers and flexing his talons in preparation for flight. "But remember, dear friend, that empires rise and fall. History has long proved to repeat time after time. Cyclonia shall be no different."

And with a whirlwind of feathers, he departed, leaving Arygyn alone with his thoughts.

* * *

"Absolutely not! I refuse to acquiesce to your ridiculous demands!"

The red carpet softly crunched underfoot as a pristine boot smashed against it.

Silently, a gaggle of commoners, royalty, and servants alike huddled in a corner of the throne room, watching the hissing duo verbally joust. Supporters on both sides of the spat soundlessly rallied each other and cheered their favorite on, waiting in hushed anxiety for the dust to settle. Clothed in rather drab, frayed clothing, they squirmed, holding their children close in uncomfortable silence.

"Ruling Klockstoppia is my birthright in case you've forgotten, Regent," Perry coldly replied, pursing her lips. "You do realize that as monarch, I have the ability to remove you from your post."

"Aha," he smirked, straightening his jacket and removing rolled-up parchment scrolls from his person; "Princess Peregrine, I am very sorry to say that it is you who has forgotten." And, clearing his throat, "Measure fifteen of Klockstoppian tradition dictates that the Regent- me- may assume the duties and responsibilities of the monarchy when their lives are in danger and they must hide or temporarily flee the terra to protect themselves."

"War's over, Regent, in case you haven't noticed," Perry snapped, snatching the aged paper out of his hands and tearing it into pieces.

"Princess!"

"Therefore, I can resume all normal duties and day-to-day routines with or without **you**."

"Please _your highness_," Regent snorted, stepping aside to allow a servant to brush away the scraps. "You are a mere child. Just because your parents are rotting away in a Cyclonian mass grave somewhere-" a collective gasp rippled through the room; "-does **not** mean you can start taking on their responsibilities without experience and wantonly drive the kingdom into the ground!"

"I am **not **a child!" Perry shouted, curling her hands into fists. "The reason why I don't have any experience with governing Klockstoppia is because of **you!**"

Breathless, chest heaving wildly, the ragged girl stalked up to the man's smug face, eyes narrowed into slits.

"Your assumption of all duties related to the kingdom has left me with nothing to observe; nothing to do! During your time as temporary ruler, you kept our people in poverty just to maintain your extravagant lifestyle! You've stripped them of their crystals and forced them into hardship!"

"My **_dear_**-"

"Fanciful parties_ every_ _week_! Enormous feasts every fortnight for no obvious reason! All you've ever used your position for was to dictate edicts to everyone else and throw yourself into a drunken stupor! I bet you've never even looked past the palace walls to see the hundreds starving, begging at the gates of the palace every single day for a morsel of food, fighting among themselves for a slab of meat when our livestock just so happens to escape their pens."

A pointed finger prodded against his clothed chest accusingly, the nail biting through the clothing to imprint itself upon his flesh.

"Let me make this perfectly clear. For fourteen years after my parents' death, you've bided your time, doing the _only _thing you've gotten good at doing-_nothing_. When you said you were concerned with the future of the kingdom, you really meant _yourself_. If you cannot bear to see changes taking place to ensure the well-being of all my subjects, then I suggest you _leave_."

Regent stormed out of the room, furious. How _dare _that little **brat** challenge his! All he ever wanted was to keep Klockstoppia safe; was that too much to ask? And this... child ruler thinks she knows better than him- he who spent decades ministering to her progenitors (who were undoubtedly efficient and a much more preferable selection to the current heir; too bad they had died in the Great War).

The imported marble slabs clacked pleasantly under his feet, elegantly executed designs greeting him as he passed. A gloved fist shoved itself within a gold-laced pocket, choking a silver watch with its own chains.

He fumed and silently mumbled to himself. He had been governing as best he could given the unfortunate occasion, using knowledge fed to him by Klockstoppia's best and brightest- those who had proved time and time again that their judgments could unerringly guide the kingdom to a brighter future. So what if he had to often resort to inappropriate means to distract the masses? It was with deluging the commoners with trivial contests that kept them sated, kept them from realizing how poorly he had been conducting affairs, and kept them from rising up against him and dooming the kingdom to failure.

That's it. There could be no other option.

He stopped, an oddity among the serene facets of the palace.

Ears pricked, he waited, searching for padding footsteps.

**Nothing.**

Satisfied, he struggled to keep a wide smirk off his face.

Nobody was around. **Good.**

Carefully, he snuck into a side room and slid into a closet. Fumbling around in the darkness, his hand brushed against a hamster-powered radio transmitter. Picking up the receiver, he brought it close to his lips and mercilessly flicked the poor animals with an uncaring finger. The marconi blazed to life with a thunderous burst of static.

Hissing, the Regent silenced the speakers with a hand, waiting.

10... 20... 30 seconds...

Silence brought a sigh of relief.

Twisting the dial until the desired frequency was achieved, the Regent cleared his throat and spoke slowly into the microphone.

"Klockstoppia has fallen. Requesting permission to initiate Project Sigma"

A pause, and then...

"Request to initiate Project Sigma approved."

* * *

**Captain's Log:**

No sign of Piper yet. We've been looking for at least three days and too many hours to add to the life I'll never be able to get back. I suspect... **_doom_**_. _Oh yeah, let's take the shortcut through the Forbidden Forest. Nothing's _ever _going to hurt us there...  
_  
"Stop being so paranoid, Stork, Thunder Wyverns are only a myth. There are no monsters in Death Valley, Stork; can you stop filling up the Condor with five hundred gallons of Cavern Spider repellent?"_

Ohhh, yeah...

I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen. Oh no, why listen to your Captain when it's the Black Gorge all over again. And then...

**_CRUNCH_**...

Won't be long now... It's going to go by as quickly as that strange rock formation coming up ahead.

Wait a minute... There are no mountains near this area... It's supposed to be nothing but clouds...

I... I gotta tell Aerrow!

Oh Atmos...**_It's a trap!_**

* * *

Dreams are funny, really.

Some people see them as meaningful, even prophetic for things to come at times. Aerrow didn't.

You see, between constantly flying around the Atmos and fighting hand to hand with Cyclonians, he never had any time to get a decent night's rest. He'd known for quite a long time that it would eventually catch up to him- the dreams, I mean. Atmos knows what would happen if the Dark Ace managed to slip into his mind. Most of the time, it would be almost like fainting- one moment it'd be midnight and you'd be lying on your cot and the next, you'd be fumbling around to stop your co-pilot's 6 AM wake-up screech. No dreams; nothing.

So why was it that they had chosen this particular time to appear?

But he digressed. This was neither the time nor place to converse; instead, I will indulge.

Like all of his sparingly-experienced dreams, Aerrow could barely control his movements consciously in this one. It was like being a puppet on strings- unable to do anything but watch and silently loathe the lack of control.

The world was fuzzy, as if somebody had decided to erase all defining lines and shadows. All he could see was orange, orange, and more orange. Orange scrolls decorated the wall. Cream-colored paper was strewn over the floor. Black ink on vermillion posters displayed the handprints and daydream scrawlings of a child. At his back, a filthy towel cradled his body, shielding it from the mud-laden wooden floor.

He thrashed, growing decidedly panicked when his arms and legs encountered a cage-like structure completely surrounding him. To the Sky Knight, it appeared as if the bars were caving in, threatening to crush him under their splinter-laden weight.

His vision was quickly brought into focus, however, when an aging woman stepped into view, peering over the wooden frame to flash him a smile with sunny radiance. Towering over the playpen, her monolithic shadow completely encompassed his form. Aerrow tried to screech loudly, hoping to scare away this potential threat, but nothing came out save for a yawn.

A giant!

Scrawny arms flopped about wildly and without rhyme or reason despite his dearest wish for them to respond to his commands. The arms descended lower.  
**_  
No!_**

A hand stretched out, long fingernails reaching for his flesh like a feeding vulture in the desert. And for a moment, Aerrow understood what it meant to be truly scared.

"Oh, how cute," she cooed, gently licking her hand and rubbing it into his cheek. "You got dirt on your face. Here, let me help you."

Aerrow shifted uncomfortably, limbs flailing about uselessly and tears snaking their way from his eyes. This strange woman carefully lifted him off of the bare floor and held him close to her chest, gently rubbing his back in small circles, paying no heed to his obvious discomfort.

It all changed, however, when she began to croon softly, half-whispering a tune he somehow knew all the notes to but still couldn't get quite enough of.

"Shh, Finch is here... Please don't cry..."

Aerrow sniffled, content with burying his face into her bright orange cloth-covered shoulder. Finch patted his shoulders, affectionately gifting them with soothing rubs. Aerrow burped and rested his chin on her arm, eliciting a short chuckle from the lady.

"I'm here, I'm here. It's going to be alright... Don't cry, my dear Piper, momma's got you."

Wait, **_what?_**

Before a coherent thought could enter his mind, an explosion rocked the house. Glass shards twinkled in the sunlight as they fell, momentarily flashing brilliant rainbows of color across the dingy walls. An angry male's voice soon filled the spaces in between.

"Get down! Get down"

Without thinking, Finch complied, bringing him under her hunched body. Protectively, she shielded him, breathing in great shuddering breaths and mouthing her prayers.

Another explosion felled part of the upper floor. Plaster and collapsed timber supports rained onto their shivering forms. All around them were the shrieks of startled people and animals alike fleeing from the sudden disturbance.

Aerrow cried.

"Come here, you little brat!"

Without warning, the caregiver was kicked aside, her baby suddenly wrenched from her slackened arms. A man dressed in dark purple held Aerrow within his iron grip, gleefully self-congratulating and spouting fanciful fantasies. Sparing the shocked woman no more than a passing glance, the Guardian tossed a hissing white crystal at the ground, twisting away from the disaster within a great plume of black smoke. Instantly, the temperature in the shanty house spiked, and flames leapt into the air.

Finch rushed out of the burning house in a storm of bloodied feet, clearing the front porch just before the jaws of the heavily damaged structure closed upon her life with its ever-so-pointed fangs. Cradled within rapidly whitening hands was a shattered glass bottle, the edges still wet with precious rosy liquid.

"Get back, get back lady!"

A bang shattered the peaceful surroundings, easily stripping leaves off of their host plants with a thunderous blast. Finch's mouth opened in a silent "oh", freezing in place as the wave of energy easily tore through her innards. Stunned, the maturing woman could only look in shock before her legs collapsed right under her.

Eyes widened in horror, Krow dropped the crystal, stumbling away from the dying woman. Shaking, he retreated back to his stolen skimmer, unwilling to believe he had just outright injured an innocent person with lethal force. Practically throwing himself onto the bike, Krow shoved the wailing child into a side compartment and revved the vehicle to life. And with the defiant roar of the skimmer's engine, the intruder sped away, leaving only a trail of smoke and two blue streaks in the air.

"Piper, Piper! Oh, Atmos!"

Aerrow reached back towards the bleeding woman, fingers sprawled out as if he were to magically grab hold of the mother's hands and never let them go. He locked eyes with her...

...And then he was looking into his own terrified ones, pupils dilating in fear.

"Who are you, and how did you get past my defenses?" Came the snarl he came to recognize as 10-year-old Piper's voice.

"I... I just wanted to find shelter for the night!" he heard his half-whimpered response, feeling his fruitless struggles against the enraged girl. "Please, I'm running from the Cyclonians like you are! I'll leave first thing in the morning!"

He felt Piper move her arm to restrain the squirming blue mass of fur a two-year old Radarr represented.

"You crash through the only garden I've managed to cultivate on this entire desolate rock, destroy over half of my defensive networking, and expose this terra to pursuing Cyclonians- what possible reason do I have **_not _**to kick you off right here and now!"

"Please! I'll do anything to make up for-" the grip inexplicably tightened. "Gah!"

And as the blood flow to his wrists died away, Aerrow hoped to whoever heard his thoughts that this insane girl wouldn't kill him. As if his prayers were answered, a happy-go-lucky blonde of nine years of age bounded past, grinning in his now-trademark manner.

"Hey Piper! I've got some good news and bad news. Ready? Okay; the good news is that the Cyclonian battleships totally brushed past this terra like it was nothing. The bad news is that they sent a spy out here to scout the are- oh..." he trailed off, his smile fading; "...And of course, you've already caught him." Finn pouted, shouldering his blaster.

"I'm not a spy!" young-Aerrow shouted, wrenching himself free and backing away slowly. "I told you, I'm just running from the Cyclonians like you are!" Heel touched the motley wooden barrier surrounding the tree fortress, and the boy felt the last of his courage wither away. "Why won't you believe me? You guys are like the overgrown gorillas you claim to have escaped from."

"The last kid that we allowed here nearly gave us away. We barely escaped with our lives to this terra. You're lucky I didn't take your head off when I had the chance," Piper grumbled, relinquishing her hold on the rabbit-lemur.

"Ah, lay of the kid- he looks alright. He's just gonna stay here for a little while, and then you get to kick him out. Who knows, maybe you can put him to work to make up for the damage he caused? Plus, I'll let you have first punch if he squeals..."

Finn's beaming grin and wriggling eyebrows did the trick, and the child's steely resolve melted away.

"Fine. He can stay here for one night, but I better see an empty couch by the time the sun reaches its apex. Finn, ready the blasters and pack our things in case they _do_ decide to pay Terra Neverlandis a visit."

The scene changed, and the once bright and cheerful colors twisted and writhed like a dying thing. Last to leave was Piper's face, a disgusted look thoroughly plastered upon it. Dark blue now reigned over the scenery, engulfing the entire environment like a tidal wave.

Worse yet, Cyclonis was in it too. Gross, weird, **_yuck_.  
**  
In his hand, Piper's necklace glinted, rhythmically pulsing in tune with the structure- a heartbeat of sorts. And like a living body, 'veins' sprawled over the rocky surfaces, glowing a comforting shade of ultramarine.

"The relationship between what you see here and reality is not exact," he found himself admitting, gesturing with a sweeping arm towards what appeared to be a strange assortment of whittled slabs encircling a larger crest. "It doesn't exactly define familiar relations- genetically, I mean-, it defines relationships, just not in the sense of heirs and bloodlines."

"So we're not related in any shape or form" Cyclonis breathed, mock-sighing in relief. "Oh good."

"It's probably just because it's so old. Even as technologically advanced as the Ancestors were, they may have not fully understood relationships," the younger mage dismissed, replacing the trinket and tying it securely around her neck; "But if you're going to talk about not being related in any manner, I have to disagree. We share a common ancestor from over a hundred thousand years ago, so in a sense, we're almost like cousins."  
"Better a cousin than a sibling."

The ceiling crumbled in agreement, raining disintegrating chunks of dirt upon their heads.

**_Crackle, crackle...  
_**  
**_Hrrrrggghhh...  
_**  
**_Thump, thump, thump...  
_**  
**_Rrrrrrr...  
_**  
"That's strange..." Cyclonis mumbled, shooting pointed glances at engraved surface. "Nothing alive's supposed to be in here..."

"Think we should go check it out?" Piper questioned, scooting away from the collapsing structure.

"Congratulations," the empress whispered. "You've made a _very _interesting statement regarding the obvious. _Nothing _ever gets past you, Piper."

_Clap, clap, clap.  
_  
"Cyclonis, I'm serious!"

"Of course we should 'check it out', as you so tactfully put it. Your idiotic friends may have already come for us. How they managed to track us here is anyone's guess, but the fact remains that you had something to do with it. In that case, I retract my previous statement and applaud your training skills."

**_Thump...  
_**  
**_Crackle, crackle...  
_**  
"What about the entranceway you so graciously sealed?"

"We'll deal with that problem when we come to it," a hand surreptitiously snuck to the back of the juvenile's head and bestowed a not-so-gentle rap.  
And then he was knocked out of her body, unwillingly ghosting behind them as they retraced their steps (and got lost more than once). Invisible, he could only advance three meters in any direction before an unseen force roughly pushed him back towards the duo. The blockade was breached, the world lit up in a bright white flash, and his senses faded away.

No longer tethered to the world in any manner, his mind was free to roam. Safeguarded from external input, logic ceased to exist, and sequential thoughts led to non sequitur paths. So he floated for what seemed like an eternity and a half, awash in the nothingness, slowly driven mad from the lack of contact with something, _anything._ Just before he reached his mental breaking point, something _did _happen.

The sensation of ice-cold water hit his face.

And so, gasping for breath, he woke to Finn's desperate shaking.

"I've been trying to get you up for the past five minutes!" the marksman complained, accusingly pointing a finger at his leader's face. "I know you haven't been sleeping for over two days, but you literally just slept through an attack _and _a crash!"

"**What!?**"

A thoroughly drenched blur of red shot from the bunk, hastily shaking off the last vestiges of the dream-induced stupor.

"We seriously need to lay off the merb cabbage," he commented, practically pulling the Sky Knight towards the bridge. "Our big fellow's got the mechanic's down and Stork's working on a way to get the systems started. As for Raddar... you've got me. The little guy might be hanging around the electricity panel. Also," a confused expression twisted to life upon his pale features; "You kept calling for me."

"I did?" Aerrow's face mirrored that of his trusty sharpshooter.

"Finch, _Finch,_ **Finch!** Atmos knows how many times you've said it in a minute. Why were you calling me, anyway?"

Aerrow shook his head and stole a glance at the befuddled sniper. If he told him about the dream, he would think he was outright insane! So instead of a rather long explanation he wouldn't have wanted to mention in the first place, a meek reply was offered to the sacrificial altar instead, complete with a not-so-innocent head shake.

"I don't know, Finn. I don't know"

* * *

It was raining when both stepped far away from there. Fat droplets of rain beaded down their faces, matting their hair close to their bodies and thoroughly soaking their shivering forms. Nuzzled protectively within the girl's hand, the Blazer crystal flared, the warm radiance flickering and sparking in the downpour.

From deep within the woods, six pairs of eyes watched, glinting a soft amethyst. Undetected, they waited, anticipating the moment the two would wander far from their den. Hungrily, they licked their lips, tapping their claws against loosened stones.

"Of _all_ the things to worry about, you had to panic at the _wind_" the empress chuckled, raising her hood and casting a smirk at the rapidly-soaking crystal mage. "Hard to believe one with your disposition made it this far without dying."

"I suppose your short memory has served you well, Cyclonis," Piper replied, bending down to examine the fresh tracks littering the muddied ground. "If anything, you would die of embarrassment from remembering how you lost time and time against a group of children. If anything, we should be grateful that we haven't been attacked yet.

"...The tracks lead somewhere into the woods. I don't know if we should follow them or not, but I should take a closer look..."

So the waterlogged pair trekked, leaving behind the safety of the ruins to venture into the treacherous beyond. At one hundred and fifty yards, the autocrat stopped, tugged on her fellow's ripped sleeves, and shouted over the downpour.

"This is idiotic. There's nothing out here. Let's turn back and wait for the storm to end."

Surreptitiously, they breathed, creeping from the shadows to meet their prey. Bodies low against the grass, they stalked, moving towards the two one agonizingly slow step at a time. A branch snapped and dry leaves rustled underfoot.

"Did you hear something?" Cyclonis whispered, half-twisting her body to peer at the forest once more, narrowing her eyes when they detected suspicious movement.

"No, Cyclonis, it's your imagination," came the sighed response; "I can't hear anything over this weather besides you."

"I've checked. Reality is calling this time, my dear Piper."

"Huh?"

She pointed. In the midst of the trees, a dark shadow was hunched over. The sheen of its wet fur glistened in the moonlight.  
"What in the Atmos?" Piper mumbled, squinting her eyes.

The sleek cat-like outline, the deadly claws, the keen ears twitching in response to their each and every movement... Two four sunburst eyes widened the slightest bit upon recognition of the very shape that haunted them since the raptor incident.

"Fly, you fool!"

Piper obeyed out of pure instinct, practically carrying the injured despot bridal-style. Her legs screeched to a halt, however, when a similar wildcat cut off their exit, forcing them to swerve and run into the rest of the pack.

Beside her, she could hear the monocrat's breath hitch in her throat.

"Oh..."

They were surrounded.

* * *

"Stork, how long do you think before they breach the hull!?"

The merb in question ran back and forth across the bridge, activating the crystal-powered defense mechanisms and fruitlessly attempting to restart the engines.

"Oh, I'd say about two minutes, give or take a few seconds."

Electricity crackled as bodies came into contact with the warped steel, serving nothing more than a cheap ploy to dissuade lesser attackers from tearing open the ship right then and there.

"There's no choice then. Finn, get ready to ride!"

The heavily armored switchblade shot through the half-opened docking bay, mercilessly ramming into the attackers. Screeching as the reinforced finned wings scraped against their underbellies and sides, they parted, allowing the trio of Storm Hawks passage to the skies above.

"Let's hope this works..." the marksman winced, loading an arrow into the mobile and taking aim.

The projectile exited the weapon, impacting with the nearest feral beast just before it tore through the engines. Immediately, the Rekhyt fled, its entire face caked with a glowing neon green substance.

"Ah haha, cool!"

A purple-tipped crystal arrow slid and clicked into place, its abilities already activated and its power ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Cocking the mechanism back, he fired once more, bursting with mirth at his relative success. For his part, Radarr proved his four multi-use appendages well, seizing hold of the arrow base, affixing a crystal head to its tip, and handing it off to the trigger-happy teen.

"You know, I was right about this whole crystal thing after all! Some explosions, the loss of my totally gorgeous hair, and accidentally setting fire to the cargo hold was worth it! This. Is.** Awesome!**"

"Wait," Aerrow pulled the skimmer into a nosedive, shaking off the unwanted passenger with a flick of the controls. "You actually _burnt _the Condor? Stork's gonna find out about this."

"Well... only a little! But dude, he _knows _and trust me, he's going to** kill **me the first moment we're out of here."

The skimmer zigzagged, walling off the downed ship protectively in progressively larger circles, forcing brutes both winged and furred away. Junko was an ant among giants, knuckle busters alight with green energy. Those who dare ignored Aerrow's warning were greeted with a flying metal plate at well over fifty miles per hour and a kiss of said Sky Knight's dual blades.

Thirty minutes and five seconds later, the Condor was well past its repairing stage and airborne. Blessed with the merbian touch, the reincarnated ship lived and dare-he-say-it, thrived. Not all was well and what it seemed, however. Intrigued by the erratic swaying of nearby frondescence, the Sky Monkey warned its human companions with a curious assortment of chirps, paw gestures, and growls.

Indeed, as if to confirm the specialist's statement, the underbrush moved once more and a dark figure sprang from the foliage, running from the Storm Hawks in great leaps and bounds. Finn didn't bother to glance over the Sky Knight's shoulder, instead busied with the prospect of nailing a fleeing Rykter with one hand behind his back.

Something about the situation brought uneasiness to the normally fearless leader. His vision mattered little now; there was no possible way in Atmos that Piper would be _that_ friendly with her arch-rival, especially after the Lark incident.

"Cyclonis and Piper are the only two people on this terra... Piper would have no reason to hide from us, much less run... It's gotta be Cyclonis. Radarr, take control of the skimmer on my mark... NOW!"

Aerrow leapt from the sky bike, planting his feet directly in front of this mysterious stranger just as the winged vehicle rocketed into the skies once more. Blades out and glowing, the young Sky Knight glared at the offending person, expertly parrying away a blow meant to knock him out.

"End of the line..." Aerrow trumpeted, uncertainty creeping in his voice as the man's identity was brought to light. "D...Domiwick?"

"Oh," the blazing yellow machete lowered and a scowl graced the bearded man's face; "it's you."

* * *

One approached from the right, one to the left, and three from the front. Outflanked, out maneuvered, out-everything, the girls stood their ground, anxiously waiting for their deaths to come. Making a break for the ruins and retreating inside would be the next logical choice, but what were the chances they'd be able to outrun them in this weather? And _if _they managed to make it inside, how many lefts and rights could they take before they ended up as a meal? They'd have a better chance at living in the Wastelands than surviving at the moment.

"To your right!"

The shard swept in said direction, dangerously glowing a soft azure.

"Your left!"

Two stalked from behind, lowering their bodies and preparing to pounce.

"Watch out!"

The Blizzard crystal hummed as a jet of blue protectively walled off the ruins in a grand, sweeping arc. Birthed from the exaggerated sweeping motion, powdery snow appeared out of thin air and formed a seven foot tall barrier around the parameter, the edges tipped with dagger-like protrusions. Dull thunks confirmed the heavyset cats' surprise. Disconcerting scraping noises followed, followed by the faint patter of ice against grass.

"Quick," Piper half-whispered, prepping the crystal to form an ice bridge over the barrier. "Extinguish the fire and let's go!"

The orange flare died in increments. Soon, the land was dark, with only the moon's clouded light to illuminate the grassy plains. Carefully, the pair moved, keeping a wary eye on the shaking obstruction. The clawing stopped...

And then...

**CRASH!  
**  
Four furry digits punched through a compromised section, claws extended. The paw thrashed to and fro, soon retreating to allow a pair of snapping jaws to take its place. Startled, they backed away, stumbling over each other's legs and hissing swears under their breaths. Bodies smashed against the palisade. Cracks started to form in the ice... The chorus of a thousand guttural snarls rose to the stars...

And then, nothing, save for the quiet wheezing breaths two teenage girls made through their teeth and the soft patter of the rain as water met earth.

A moment of silence.

...And then the sky rained predators.

Howling in triumph, two leapt over the top, pricking their ears and lowly grumbling, their sleek bodies dark against the light of the moon. Distracted, both mage and Master gaped, their attention drawn away from the less important matter at hand. With a thunderous crash, the blockade fell, spilling in crystalline shards that twinkled softly in the nocturnal effulgence.

Disregarding the searing agony from her still-healing legs, Cyclonis charged towards them, staff raised as she would if she were battling an average Sky Knight instead of a three hundred pound animal. The First officer could only watch in somewhat-morbid amusement as the lion swatted her as effortlessly as it would a fly. When the smoke cleared, Cyclonis was sprawled on the ground, having been knocked back-first into the entranceway.

"Oh, they're good," Lark giggled, eyes lolling about within her skull.

"For Atmosia's sake," Piper grumbled quietly, gently prising the weapon from her belt and shifting into a more comfortable Sky-Fu position.  
Launching into the air, the navigator bounced off one jungle cat and vaulted over another. Expertly wielding her staff, she reflected the many years of combat styles taught by life's harsh lessons.

So she fought like a wild beast, dancing amid tearing claws and snapping jaws. For her survival, she fought. For the one she considered to be the only one that understood her completely despite the many differences that fragmented their brief friendship, she endured. The predators, as resilient as they were, could not effectively keep track of her movements. Many a time she was caught in their swinging paws, yes, but simply freezing their legs to the ground bought her time and space. Weak as she was by hell and hellfire, Piper stayed conscious, but only just.

In the corner of her eye, she saw one such predator skulking towards the recovering mage, a single loathsome paw raised in preparation to strike.

**"No!"  
**  
Her shredded legs carried her towards her fallen ally in record time- impressive considering the grievous amount of pain throbbing through her system. Shouting, Piper swung her staff at its neck and intercepted the blow, taking the hit directly to her chest before collapsing, down and out for the count. Shaking its head free of double-vision's effects, the wounded cat snarled angrily and prepared to sink its teeth into her flesh. It's endeavor was halted, however, by a crystal staff suddenly lodging itself between its jaws.

A lone amethyst eye glared from under a shaggy mane of unkempt hair. The cub- dare she say it- trembled in terror, squeaking as sparks burst from the mage's palm and delivered more than a healthy dose of electricity.

"Get away from her," she growled; "Only I'm allowed to finish her off!"

With a deafening shout, Cyclonis found her reservoir of inner strength and hurled the wildcat over her shoulder, somehow managing to convert it into a guided missile in the process. The Wyrmus landed hard against its bretheren and twitched once before it stopped moving altogether, experiencing the same fate its would-be meal.

Lark rushed to the aid of the Storm Hawk while the rest of the now-distracted pack attended to their stricken comrades, anxiously pressing two fingers against her neck.

She looked absolutely dreadful. Blood created a thin trail between open lips, snaking past a hair-covered ear to rest upon the ground. Dirt caked her open wounds. Not a single square foot of her body was spared the beasts' claws. From chapped lips, a lone line of drool graced her face; a dull twinkle in her eye signifying the tenuous hold she still had with life's embrace.

"Come on, come on," she found herself mumbling; "Don't you dare die on me, Storm Hawk"

Piper hacked once, glassy amber eyes blinking, slowly drifting heavenward. No outward sign of recognition towards the empress was made, however.

**Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.  
**  
Lark nervously chuckled. For once, she was glad to feel the navigator's blood pulse beneath her fingertips- a strange phenomenon enough. Maybe it was the stress of trying to keep their heads over water, maybe it was the rush of chemicals her adrenaline system provided. Or maybe, it was because of that tiny niggle in her brain silently weighing on their growing platonic relationship or how they literally couldn't survive without each other. Still, Piper was bleeding out and there was no way in the Wastelands that she could continue her existence without suffering so much pain- unless...

...She gave her a mercy blow.

"Last resort," Lark sighed. "I really hoped it wouldn't come to this, but..."

She turned the flaming Blazer upon her writhing friend and concentrated, channeling her strength and willpower through the staff to the crystal. Years of crystal mastery had not prepared her for this specific calling, but it was no excuse not to improvise.

"Apologies, Piper. I do hope you'd find the gall to... to _forgive _me for this."

The dancing red flames grew in intensity, sending sparks flying from her fingertips. And with a merciless grin firmly entrenched upon her insane features, she fired.

"Inferno's Blaze!"

Piper coughed violently, rolling to her side and curling into a fetal position as the ray of red connected with her abdomen and bathed her weak form with bright orange flames. Her fingers spastically twitched, hand violently shaking despite her mind's orders to cease doing so.

The power...

The _raw_, unadulterated... **power**...

It felt... **incredible**.

Crimson aura bordering on purplish-blue at the edges soon engulfed her body, travelling from the bond's establishment to her phalanges. Pure bliss surged through her veins, sending her head over heels as wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed against her body, drowning throes of agony with oceans of readily-released endorphins. A pleasured groan escaped her lips. And, armed with the gift of pyrokinesis, Piper steadily recovered, igniting her fisted hands with fire.

Ten knuckles cracked in succession. Five sets of rabbit-like ears instantly drooped. A smug smirk slowly played about her lips.

Oh, yes. Payback time.

Yowling, one jungle cat flew backwards through the air, legs flailing chaotically and paws swiping at everything and nothing all at once. It crashed through the remnants of the barrier, dazed and covered in a thick sheet of fragmented ice.

In an instant, the remainder of the pack was on them, converging to the position like an army of well-trained soldiers storming a fortress. And although their superior hearing allowed them to predict where their prey ran to, the pungent crackling of flames prevented them from guessing where she'd strike next. In addition, the smoke masked Piper's natural scent, effectively disguising her within the billowing streams of smog.

To them, it was a madhouse, an absolute bedlam of terror and turmoil, clamor and confusion. They'd be hit on one side, and just when they thought they'd reached a safe distance from imminent danger, a sizzling jet of flames would sear their backsides yet again.

Cyclonis grit her teeth in exertion as the newly forged bond between them reached its breaking point. Her concentration was thinning, frayed by the ever-present toxic substances that longed to steal all her life-force. And yet, she held on, funneling her energies through the tenuous mental connection, daring not to deviate from her task- not even when a Wyrmus streaked past howling, its tail alight and smoking.

She shifted, fingers shakily wrapping around yet another crystal.

"L... lightning strike!"

Thunder rumbled and vibrated the air in a single undulating pulse. Energy crackled off the mission specialist's fists, purple electricity bouncing off her body as blue aura connected with red. She barely heard the current's crepitation as sinew met spark and blasted the beasts away- her ears drowned in pools of want and needs.

_Sleep... Wouldn't it be so wonderful if she could just... lie back and let go of all her troubles... the battle... everything?  
_  
Lark struggled. She had to stay awake... for Piper's sake. But the body's needs called to her, and she found it hard to resist, even as the girl screamed her name.

She felt her hold slipping, one finger after another...

She made one last herculean effort...

And then it was over.

Instead of drowning in the throes of mental giants that threatened to consume her, she was instead awash in muted emotions dampened by exhaustion.

Tail tucked between their legs, the pack of jungle cats fled, more or less intact after the encounter. Only one of their numbers had truly fallen in battle, one of the more prized hunters of the pack.

She breathed.

The world grew unstable, dissolving in wisps of black around the edges. Terra Tenebre's orchestra of battle music faded into a symphony of silence. Cyclonis fell back, disgracefully lying against moss covered rock against her wishes, uselessly fighting against the uncontrollable unconsciousness that threatened to take her under. Water trailed down her face in miniature streams, wiping away the last of her mascara in rivers of inky black.

Her altered hearing barely picked up the pitter-patter of shoe-clad feet against the grass. Wearily, she forced her body onto its side, flicking fuchsia eyes to meet her rival's apricot-cinnabar ones. Two battle-scarred knees fell beside her, landing in cool mud; two chocolate-colored hands followed afterward.

"Don't you look like a sight for sore eyes," Cyclonis dryly commented, taking in the numerous wounds that had stopped bleeding, but had yet to start the actual process of healing.

"Lark," Piper cried, holding her limp body in her muddied lap and shaking the girl's shoulders quite roughly. "What did you do that for?"

The mage allowed her coughing to fill the space between them in lieu of an answer. A thin smile that held no laughter within curled upon the elder mage's face. Already, she looked paler, her features more flushed and tight against her bony structure. Ruefully, Master Lark Cyclonis tilted her head upward and whispered so lowly, so quietly, that Piper thought she heard the very voice of death itself.

"I couldn't let my best friend forever die, now could I?"

And then her eyes grew glassy, her lids slid half-shut, the air from her lungs blew quietly through her teeth, and Piper was left alone in the pouring rain.

* * *

**AN:** Well, I did warn you it was long. Don't worry, the next chapter won't be as tedious. _  
_

I no longer capitalize "merb" or "merbian", as I treat it with the same degree the word "human" has- not capitalized unless it is in the beginning of a sentence. Still working out the kinks with terms like "Sky Monkey", however.

For Regent, he is meant to be an anti-hero, not a villain. He has actively ignored the disastrous economic situation resulting from the lack of modernization (crystal technology) and an understandable disadvantage when trading with other terras for basic necessities. His ranking as a character, however, will most likely change as the story progresses.

I would think the law on the Binding is that the binder is restricted to one person (to whom he or she feels strongly toward (emotions like anger, love, etc.)) at a time. A mage may bind to one already bound to another, but the decay speed is obviously increased until perfect attunement is obtained.

**Side note:** If you're confused, the Binding allows sight-sharing between the bound and the binder. Whether it is in the past or present matters not- it cannot be consciously controlled until one has become skilled enough in using it (by trial and error). In this case, Aerrow "lived" through Piper's kidnapping by Krow, his first meeting with her, and her current situation. During sight-sharing, members seeing through another's past have emotions separate from the other at the time, but it will obviously not change anything. Because I do not believe the Binding's powers stop at that point, I will continue to allow the golden trio to develop it and continue to explain its shortcomings and problems.


	9. Shahrokh

**AN: I lied! Enjoy the result of a month's vacation (or not. That's cool too)!**

Did you know you can now add up to four characters to a story's property list due to the site's recent updates? It's true! Now, please excuse me as I try out different writing styles.

To end any semblance of confusion, the 3 time sections (Cypi, Storm Hawks, and Perry) occur roughly at the same day. The Condor flies at lower speeds, higher altitudes, and frequently rests on spots of land to conserve fuel energy, which makes travel several times longer.

**ATTENTION! There is no inspirational music because I am no longer inspired by anything! Also, _dancing is forbidden_!** That is all.

* * *

**[[]]**

"**_Great achievement is usually born of great sacrifice, and is never the result of selfishness."_**

**~Napoleon Hill**

* * *

**Dedicated to S, the only one who could stare death down and laugh in its face.**

**In loving memory of M, who always found reason to smile;**

**Congratulations on beating cancer!**

**[[]]**

* * *

"Domiwick?"

The explorer stared at the Sky Knight with his one good eye, leering unpleasantly underneath the mass of hair. Time certainly had not treated the man well, preferring to gouge lines across his face with wild abandon and toss him in a sizable pool of mud whenever possible. So much had changed in so little time that it made it nearly impossible to recognize the book writer, save for his mop of shaggy blond hair, his ever present scraggly beard, and the torn but still recognizable waterproof khaki jacket.

"Aerrow," he snarled. "How _good _to see you _alive _and _well_."

"So you **_did _**manage to find your way here like the rat you were!"

Domiwick chuckled and allowed the still-flaring blade to drop by his side. Adjusting his makeshift eye patch, he sneered, his worn lips merely making his expression feral.

"Thanks to your friend Piper, yes. Her breathing apparatus certainly helped bring me good fortune," here, he gestured with his good arm at the piles of gold and rare gems nestled within a nearby thicket. "And," he added, his malevolent glare darkening, "a curse as well,"

As if reading the man's thoughts, he tightened his grip on the twin blades, throwing cursory looks at the deranged explorer.

"She gifted me the ability to reach the Far Side first, allowing me to make my mark here, but left me no exit. I've been rotting here for weeks."

A slash, a parry, a blow. A measured grunt escaping the lungs of a body firmly entrenched in a defensive position.

"Can't you get out the way you came?"

Domiwick let out a mirthless laugh that bounced eerily off the trees, easily distracting the boy. Dislodging his weapon from the Sky Knight's hold, the rogue adventurer smoothly blocked the latter's next attack. Thrusting the pointed end towards the recovering teen, he clucked his tongue in disappointment when it failed to meet its mark, instead finding itself once again trapped in glowing metal jaws.

"Underwater tunnel's closed, mate," Domiwick managed to spit out in between desperate tugs. "Beastie's been feeling a bit hungry."

"Beastie?"

"Don't act so stupid, _Aerrow_. Even if you don't believe so, the ocean's full of monsters too terrible to name or describe... many a times they all thought me a wounded fish..." Shifting his eye patch, he continued. "You must be overjoyed to see me like this, Aerrow. Weak, half-blinded," here, he lifted up his ragged shirt slightly to reveal his starved body, ribs visible under a thin sheet of skin. "How pleased you must feel to know that the first shore I washed up on nearly killed me."

"I came here to find my friend, not pity _you_."

"Pity me?" he chuckled melodiously. "You'd do best to watch yourself, dear boy!"

The crook of his leg snaked around the back of the boy's knees and tugged, bringing the red-haired Sky Knight down in one fluid motion. Using the latter's now-compromised position to his advantage, Domiwick raised his blade, intending to finish off what he started with a single blow. Much to his dismay, however, Aerrow rolled away, sprang to his feet, and leaped into the tree branches, where the sizable height gain made for a significant advantage. From there, the duo played a deadly game of cat and mouse.

The wildlife did much to cover both auditory and visual cues, their cries overlapping the sound of the Storm Hawk's movement.

"You have to do better than that!" came the disembodied voice from amid the rustling leaves.

"Where are you, you little brat!" Domiwick cried, turning to and fro, helplessly scanning the dimly lit area.

"I'm here!"

A rock struck his face from the side.

"No, over here!"

And another from the other.

"Right behind you!"

_Patience wearing out in** three... two...**_

"In front of youuuu~!"

**_One..._**

At one point, Aerrow saw it fit to give the poor man a break and allotted small glimpses of his armor and cheeky grins, exposing a limb a second too long before dashing away again. And like a horse to a carrot, the older male followed, however frustrated his efforts may be. So the game continued, the disgraced explorer cursing and swearing as he "chased" the Storm Hawk's voice in vain...

...That is, until he grew cunning and waited for the young lad to emerge from the vegetation again. From there, he quickly sliced away at the rough bark, felling the aged tree and allowing gravity to pin the teen under branches.

When Aerrow's eyes stopped rolling inside his head, his pupils found a jagged edge not two inches from their very tip. Clearly, the man felt no need to repress his animalistic whims this time. This time, he was out to _kill._

"That was a pretty lil' game you played back there, 'eh? Well, now it's my turn. We're going to play... tell the truth."

"Very original, if I do say so myself," Aerrow huffed, shifting torso away from the center-most part of the wreckage, only stopping when the irate novelist added his weight to the trap, almost crushing the adolescent's ribs in the process.

"Now, I'm only going to say this once, so it would do you good to pay attention."

"I'm listening..."

"Good..." Domiwick leaned forward, his one good eye acquiring a rather unpleasant sheen to it. "Tell me where the Oracle is, and I may let you escape and both of us will get on with our lives."

"She's not here," Aerrow smirked triumphantly. "Back in the Forbidden City, I freed her. She's _gone_, Domiwick, _gone."_

"Liar!" he snarled, digging the point against his neck; Aerrow winced as the blade cleanly cut through a layer of skin and nicked several blood vessels. "It is said that this blasted realm is her true home! This cursed city keeps her most valuable treasure yet, the Borealis stone! You would do good to spill the beans or kiss your head **goodbye**."

"That _is _the truth, Domiwick! Face it; you're never going to see her or lay your hands on the stone- ever! Not if we have anything to say about it!"

"_We?_" came the laughing reply.

"Yeah..." Aerrow smirked, looking up to see a hungry beast swoop down, talons outstretched and ready to steal the man away as a future meal. "We."

Domiwick squealed sharply, ducking and rolling to the side. And just like Aerrow predicted, the momentum of the winged predator coupled with the sheer force of its impact was enough to shift the fallen tree enough and free him, allowing said object to tumble away. Enraged, the man leapt over the dislodged trunk and struck. A quick turn of the neck, and a branch was sliced clean away in his place.

Bob and weave. Weave and bob.

Turn by turn, strike after strike, the writer's attempts at _hitting _his opponent grew frustrated to the point where all the boy needed to do to evade certain laceration was to step back and turn his body ever so slightly, allowing the blade to just whip by his armored skin. Eventually, the latter ran out of room and, frankly bored with how the situation was playing out, stopped the last would-be assassination attempt with his weapons. The well-toned muscles in his arms held back the thinning man's wrath with little difficulty. Both knew the former was tiring fast, and the small skirmish would come to a quick end soon.

Aerrow grinned, idly scanning the skies for the flagship carrier that bore his bloodline's legacy. Unexpectedly, however, he dropped to his knees, gasping for air as a sudden onslaught of images and unfamiliar sounds hit his senses like an oncoming roller-coaster.

One moment, he was facing a borderline insane man, and the next, he was staring Cyclonis down, pinning her lithe form to the ground and using his weight to immobilize both her legs.

_"A life for a life!"_

And then... **pain.**

His vision distorted suddenly, as if caused up in a great seizure. Blues and purples blended together, blurring in a haze of color. From there, unrecognizable memories and voices filtered in, always cycling through.

Get out...

Aerrow tried to push the tide of whatever this way away, a futile effort best redirected to a more fruitful expenditure- finding a specific rock in a lake, for instance.

_Get out..._

Reality flickered in and out of existence, interspersing itself between the shrieking women and the tortured cries of several thousand children. Domiwick stalked towards him, leisurely taking his time for whatever asinine reason his illogical mind could conjure.

**Get out!**

And for a moment, his face became the Dark Ace's, ever-smug and domineering.

**"Heeyahh!"**

The world broke through, shattering the paralyzing illusion as if it were glass. Keeping low to the ground, Aerrow attached both blades at the hilt and staved off the hastily made attack, just before the point lanced his heart.

Deadlock.

"No more... I will rid you of the world, you insolent child!"

He pushed, the blade slipping incrementally and digging deeper into the boy's skin. Red rushed to the surfaced and pooled, spilling onto the nearby foliage below. This was it. This was the last moments of his life. So driven by self-preservation, Aerrow pushed back, determined to spend the last seconds in combat.

And suddenly, just as evil was about to triumph over good, a tremor of great magnitude shook the terra, followed by a pneumatic shock-wave of unprecedented size. Terrified, as such event shouldn't occur at any point in time, a wave of wildlife swarmed the area, batting the air above and trampling the ground beneath. Aerrow and Domiwick exchanged glances, their near-fatal battle all but forgotten.

One thought ran through their heads in that instant- **run.**

So they did, the former loudly cursing his misfortune and the latter taking care to avoid the growing cracks that now graced the formerly undefiled terra's land. A cascade of jewel-encrusted precious metals clinked as they tumbled into the abyss below. Aerrow leapt across a widening chasm, looking back in pure shock as the man who would betray the Atmos for a crystal stop in his tracks and scramble for said objects, wildly swiping at the falling material.

"Come with me!" Aerrow found himself crying out, throwing an arm out to reach over the void despite his understandable unwillingness to do so.

"You fool! They are imbued with the power of the City of Ancients! I could be king!"

"Forget about them! They're lost!"

The light haired explorer cast one last despairing scowl at the teen before growling a single word.

"No."

And then he disappeared, leaping after said treasures.

"Domiwick, no!"

But the deranged man was gone and he was all alone in the sea of blurred shapes, fighting against the current. So he ran, moving towards the edge of the panicked crowd until the end of the landmass forced him to stop. Even then, a few or more broke away from the throng as well, nearly turning him into fertilizer in their alarmed state.

Trapped, his eyes darted to and fro, trying to spot his teammates.

Nothing but the edge greeted him.

Taking one last look at the deranged, charging animals, Aerrow steeled his nerves, took a deep breath, and leapt over the cliff, trusting nothing but the air to cushion his fall.

**[[]]**

* * *

**[[]]**

"Let me help you!"

Impossibly sharp nails raked against dark skin, leaving no less than seven sleek trails of blood in their wake, criss-crossing her cheeks. The crystallographer's body snapped back as two feet forcefully thrust her abdomen into space.

"I don't_ need_ any help, especially from **you**! You've already taken my powers, now I command you to stop!"

Indeed, she could feel her essence intermingling with hers even as the ground met flesh, carrying traces of her sadistic nature and cruel mannerisms with it. The anathema to her own spirit, Cyclonis' caused her queasy guts to twist about in abject horror. Unlike Aerrow's, which usually gave off a comforting aura, hers felt overbearing and suffocative. Like a grand staircase, they spiraled, twisting parallel lines connected only by threads of purple and blue. Through this tenuous bond, Piper thrived, her body unconsciously sapping the other's strength. Now, as they wrestled, they pulsed, clashing violently.

Cyclonis ran. Piper stumbled, then leapt into the air and caught her with scarred arms, using her body weight as leverage. Tumbling, the former landed on her back- hard. Clearing her vision with a shake of her head, she was met with furrowed brows and a set of piercing eyes.

"That was stupid, Lark, sacrificing your life to save mine!"

"A life for a life," she snarled back. "I am no longer in your debt."

The empress' thin legs wrapped around the other's waist, quickly turning the tables. Smugly, Cyclonis quirked her brows, earning herself a venomous glare and a low hiss from the girl as her reward. It faltered however, when a sharp, stabbing pain inexplicably shot through her side, causing her stance to falter long enough for the younger mage to slip from her grasp.

Instantly, she recoiled away, cradling her wrist as if she had just touched flame. It throbbed in agony- a small spark of whitish blue fading away from the very tips of it. She shot it a withering look, displeased with the new discovery. It appeared as if harming- no, merely touching the girl would suck what was left of her rather pitiable life out of her. Panting, she scuttled away, back to the farthest recesses of the room, persperating slightly as her internal temperature spiked once more.

"I no longer owe you my life. Leave. Me. Alone!"

Piper approached, stubbornly rebuffing any attempts to change her mind otherwise.

"You don't get it, don't you? You're so proud that you can't accept even the slightest bit of kindness directed towards you, even if it will help both of us in the long run. You've been _so_ **blind**, I'm astounded that my patience held out until _now!_"

"You don't get it, do you?" Cyclonis parroted in increasingly shrill tones. "This isn't just a matter of pride!"

They leapt...

...and crashed against each other, joints snapping as bone met bone and flesh struck flesh.

The great, newly formed chain jerked, pulled to and fro by both sides. Pulled terse and stressed far past its capabilities, minuscule cracks decayed into great glowing fissures. Little by little, the connected bond flaked; separate entities became one and boundaries blurred beyond recognition.

It was by accident that the agitated adolescent brushed against her equal's arms and triggered something new, something dark and lovely and cursed- something forbidden by the masters of the Binding itself..

The world exploded in sapphire and amethyst. Instantly, transparent forms swirled above in the air, creating a wonderful vortex of color. The singular band expanded to allow comely crimson and halcyon honey, vibrant verdant and passionate peach alike, allowing both teens to see every speck, every shade possible within the visible spectrum stretch into eternity. And nestled within the spectral fluid, the future lay ahead, as clear as day and yet like a dark crow flying through the blackest night.

Entranced, the duo forgot their spat and leaned towards it, even daring as to reach for it. The mass quivered in expectation, almost as if it were alive. Their fingers brushed against the very edge of its form...

...And then the gateway slammed shut with a resonating clang, effectively shutting both of them out.

Puzzled, both Cyclonis and Piper exchanged confusion. No words were said, yet the air was saturated with speech. Three seconds passed, and then...

The world exploded around them, cleaving through the multiple layers of reality with a single blow.

She was Cyclonis, and Cyclonis was her. When they locked eyes, they gazed into an infinite continuum of good and evil, dethroned empress and Storm Hawk. Piper gasped and tried to move away, only to find the other's body responding to her will and vice-versa instead. Locked within an alien mindset, it seemed simply maddening how their opposite thought, each mind an enigma, an unsolvable puzzle to the other. Despite their odd situation at the moment, nothing in the world could have prepared either girl for what happened next.

"Mommy... Why won't you move? Why won't you get up‽"

"-stay with me, Lark, and whatever you do, whatever happens, don't let go!"

Ghostly wails that were neither mage nor Master caused the very base of the superstructure to tremble to its very core. Rapidly flitting in and out of their vision were extremely fragmented memories, reduced to nothing but a second's phrase or action. Had it been a dream, circumstances would be obviously different. However, even as reality came crashing down around them, they drowned in visions both false and factual.

"-an unprecedented scale, the order of the destruction of Terra effectively paralyzed Atmosia's free market system-"

"-ascension of a new Master Cyclonis has forced the newly elected members of the Sky Knight council-"

"-stia in ruins! Twenty injured and five unaccounted for-"

Pressure mounted, forcibly pressing against their skulls. Clasping their heads, the demonic screeching that had been ever-so present during this situation intensified. Like nails on a chalkboard, it grated against raw nerves, pushing their connected mental states until one of them snapped.

Shrieking like a banshee, Cyclonis was the first to break the inadvertent bond. She lunged, and Piper was knocked back into her body, stars twinkling and dancing in her vision. Staggering drunkenly, she retreated, carefully edging out of the raging crystal expert's sight.

**[[]]**

* * *

**[[]]**

So this was how it was to end- alone and helpless, with only his fondest memories with his teammates to look back on. Aerrow could feel his body begin to fully embrace momentum, reaching terminal velocity in a matter of seconds. An earlier attempt to engage his wings failed miserably, the metal scraps reduced to nothing more than useless pieces now. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable impact. It was the only thing he _could _do in light of his current situation.

Exhaustion easily caught up to him, settling into his bones and turning his eyelids as heavy as lead.

'_What was it like after death?' _he wondered, listening to the whipping wind as it sped past, robbing him of precious oxygen. '_Would it be as gilded as the elders always said it would be, covered in gold bricks and joined as a single landmass?'_

He dared not answer.

'_What would happen to his team- no, his family? His home? Would they make it out alive? Would they succeed where he failed?"_

His mind teetered on the edge of unconsciousness as the ground rushed towards him.

'_Forgive me.'_

And he would have died and his legacy cut short, if not his body impacted a _very _familiar stringy substance instead, gently scooping his falling body out of the air and carrying him away to the far edges of the horizon.

In happy disbelief, he let his fingers wind themselves into the net, soon snaking them onto his torso, gently patting it rhythmically. Yep; still alive and kicking by the looks of it.

From within the cockpit, his trusty co-pilot navigated the Condor, having risked life and limb to ensure the deployment of the safety mechanism in the first place. Waving a paw, his friend could only gape in awe before slowly returning the gesture.

Five minutes, a crash landing (coupled with an expected freak-out courtesy of Stork), and near strangulation by each of his teammates later, Aerrow was back on the airship, his wounds treated and bandaged tightly. Situated in front of a childish drawing of the observed Far Side (now complete with red marker drawings of the Condor), he paced nervously.

"He was ranting about the Oracle and a stone... the Borealis, I think he said. Something about the Far Side being her true home...

"We don't have much time! Stork, Radarr, Junko, head out to where Domiwick was last seen and track him down. He **can not** be allowed to reach the Borealis Stone- whatever that is. I'm guessing it's a weapon of some sort. If I'm right about that, the entire Atmos could be in trouble."

"Ah, question," Stork interrupted raising a green finger. "How do you propose to find this... _Domiwick? _He could be _anywhere_, especially after his little disappearing act."

"We already know that the last time we thought he was dead he survived. We also know that he's attracted to ruins- places where powerfully important... shiny... magical thingies can be found."

"So?"

"So we just have to travel to the few intact ruins scattered here," Junko completed, offering his friend a toothy grin. "C'mon Stork, maybe it's only less than 20 places we have to visit."

The merb remained unconvinced. It wasn't that he particularly cared about death anymore (he certainly wanted to avoid meeting it at all costs until he finished planning his funeral, of course) nor was it that he lacked empathy for his fellow Storm Hawk. Rather, it was the absolute certainty of failure in the mission that concerned him. Aerrow's lack of constructive foresight left the team flying by the seat of their pants in a land where the slightest of missteps (namely, the thoughtless expenditure of limited reserves) could earn one's place within another's stomach. It wasn't that he was a **_bad _**leader, so to speak, it was just that he was a rather incompetent leader without a second-in-command to check and improve upon his hastily made plans.

At long last, the green-skinned male nodded once.

"Start with Terra Lacrimans. The heavy-hitters that seem to be there may be guarding something."

The merb flinched, Junko gulped, and Radarr whined. Unwillingly, they nodded, trudging towards the hangar bay.

"Finn, you're with me."

"Well duh."

Aerrow ignored said reply. "I need you to help me dissect the notes Piper took of this place, along with several Atmosian myths. Maybe there's something in here that could reveal whatever Domiwick is looking for- the Borealis stone... crystal... thing."

"Oh joy," he yawned. "Reading. Very exciting."

"Would you rather be stuck touring around the Far Side with the rest of the guys? Besides, it'll help us find Piper and just think of how impressed she'll be when she finds out that you actually _read_ a book,"

"Hey!" Finn straightened up, glaring at his leader's smirking face. "I read! I read a lot!"

"..."

"Alright, fine." the marksman sighed, deflating considerably and allowing himself to be pulled along by his leader. "I don't read as much as Piper says I should. But this better help us get her back."

"It will!" came the grinned response. "Trust me!"

**[[]]**

* * *

**[[]]**

Something was wrong- very wrong.

At random moments, her necklace would act up, sending out brilliant white sparks that didn't _hurt _necessarily when she touched it but felt insanely uncomfortable otherwise. Glowing blue ovals would sometimes spring into existence near certain stone arcs that had hundreds of crystals- embedded ones that stubbornly remained attached to the wall no matter how much she pulled, at that. And sometimes, despite the better half of her warning her not to do it, she'd stick an arm through it and eventually the rest of her body, ending up in an entirely different room altogether with the pathway snapping shut behind her with a near-silent hiss.

Piper shivered, her skin rising into tapered points. Rubbing her chilled flesh, the Storm Hawk shook off the last remains of the relatively new mode of travel. _'Portals,' _she decided, felt weirder than the time she had to crawl through the sewage system of Zartacla to scope out the building before the mission the next day. At least there was this nice static-y feeling whenever she passed through them.

Aimlessly walking with no direction in mind, she lost track of how many hours she'd been wandering the ruins, wondering how far the actual structure stretched underground. To be truthful, she felt obligated to enter the rifts whenever they appeared, as if some life force within the building was showing her where to go. Something at the back of her mind berated her for wantonly walking through unfamiliar territory with no way to retrace her steps. She ignored it; Cyclonis probably wouldn't care if she was gone for an hour or two... or three... or four... At the next blue-tinged opening, however, something strange and foreign to this area touched her- fresh air.

"Huh...?"

Blue hair rustled in the breeze. Air that could only be funneled through...

Ventilation shafts.

'_Of course!' _Piper thought, ducking into the ellipse. '_How else would people survive in here?'_

Discrete ceiling perforations weren't all there was to the inner chamber, however. Standing in front of her was an enormous set of double doors, both covered in long-settled dirt. Puzzled, she wiped away the grime, holding her great great grandmother's necklace close-by in case the spacial tear felt the need to appear once more. Extremely ornate details surfaced in the roving blue rays, ranging from intricate stone masonry to gold-encrusted panels. Her curiosity piqued, Piper approached it, seeing as there was no other entrance or exit made available at the time.

"I wonder what's behind this...?" she breathed, soon interrupting her train of thought with a face-palm. "...Oh wait, a way out. Duh."

Grunting, she squared a shoulder against one such door and dug her feet into the ground, shoving. It creaked and budged only in molecule-sized increments, its mechanisms unused and uncared for. Dust blanketed her features, covering her in fluffy white particulates. Undiscouraged, the girl merely threw more of her weight onto the structure. Then, with a wretched groan, it collapsed, tumbling to the ground in a flurry of sand and sandstone amidst her voiced "no, no, no, no, no!"'s and assorted self-deprecation. Hacking and half-blinded by the swirling cloud of brown, Piper shielded her face with both arms.

When the dust settled, the sun cast its brilliance upon the decorated interior, which looked as if a storm had swept through it, had a tornado decided earlier that day to invade an ancient ruin and destroy priceless pieces of art and history. Inside the dilapidated inner chamber were numerous clay jugs meant to hold burial ashes, all scattered around in pieces. Similarly, fragmented wood scraps littered the flooring, all but rotted. The majority of the enormous space was no more, its stones and foundations mercilessly shattered in favor of creating a door for nature's wrath. Invasive vines of ivy stretched along the walls, casually complementing the growing moss scattered about. All in all, it appeared as the very epitome of disaster. But there, in the center of all this, was a blossoming tree, as healthy as could be despite its rather drab surroundings.

And as if it belonged there, a white hawk was perched upon it, standing no more than three feet tall. From there, it's regal feathers fanned out, effortlessly capturing the multicolored rays and adding a sense of royal magnificence to his form.

It twisted its neck and regarded her with a pseudo steely gaze. True, he had heard tale of this young girl even before the events with Krow, but he had expected a more rugged type of adventurer in part of her employment as a navigator and close combat fighter. Still, basic expectations were met, and no notable complaints surfaced upon cursory inspection. The genes had done their job; Piper would be a great leader.

"Welcome home," he greeted, "Oriole."

**[[]]**

* * *

**[[]]**

"Welcome home, Oriole."

"My name's not Oriole," Piper corrected, approaching the anomaly with wariness evident in each footfall. "It's Piper, and this is not my home."

"I understand that, but on the contrary, it is the name designated to you by name of myth and blood. The fair Oriole, guardian of the lost and keeper of the eternal flame, two titles that have been passed on by your mother, and the mothers who came before her."

The nerve on the navigator's temple twitched in agitation. "Okay, for the last time, my name is Piper, _not _Oriole. I am just a Storm Hawk who participates in defending the Atmos against threats to its sovereignty, _especially _Cyclonia, not a guardian or a keeper of anything..."

Claws softly clicked on wood as the bird hopped from branch to branch, bobbing its head back and forth.

"My apologies; it would have done your ancestors a great disservice to refer to you by your common name rather than the one they have chosen for you. Very well, Piper of the Storm Hawks, you shall be identified as such. Is there anything you would like to inquire?"

A soft sigh moved the air, followed by muffled footfalls.

"I don't mean to be rude, but how did you get here? How did you know my name?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he scoffed, puffing out more than a few chest feathers and ignored the scathing look the young girl shot him. "I _flew_ here. Took me several days and killed my bones to find you, but well, I did my job."

"I was taught to treat everything I came in contact with respect, but you're kinda... toeing the line here."

The talking bird raised a wing, opened its beak and... stopped, speechless. "You're absolutely right," he reluctantly mumbled after a moment's pause. "Forgive me. Twenty six hours of continual flying does not do well for one's psyche. As for your other question, well, you're part of the Storm Hawks. You helped liberate the majority of the Atmos, so... you're famous- sort of... Any other questions?"

"Yeah..." the navigator trailed off, now eyeing the predator suspiciously. "Who are you?"

Unexpectedly, the bird took flight, flapping madly towards her. Instinctively, the navigator threw both arms out to protect her face. A horrible screech ripped from the creature's vocal chords, a blinding white light flashed and...

...a shower of feathers gently floated to the ground.

Confused, the First officer could only gape slack-jawed as a ridiculously-dressed youthful man stood before her. Wreathed in attire similar to his aviary form, he humbly bowed his head, allowing the elongated plumage to briefly graze the stone flooring.

"I am the White Hawk, as you have seen by my previous form. Other titles many people include 'Shahrokh, Master of the Skies'. Perhaps you have heard tale of legends past?" She shook her head. "No? Ah, well. I believe you know Arygyn the Skeelur?"

A nod.

"Ah good! We're getting somewhere here! Anyway, I do not mean to be a non-sequitur, but do you have the-" he stopped, his eyes coming to a rest upon a familiar blue object hanging around the Storm Hawk's neck. "Ah, of course; how else would you have gotten in here! Anyway, Arygyn was undoubtedly one of my best pupils, if I recall correctly. He often has been an ally in many of my expeditions. Both of us are special As the White Hawk, my duty is to protect the bearer of the Borealis crystal- you, in case you haven't noticed- and then guide the way to the sacred treasure." Piper opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the bird-man's hasty request. "Please, in interest of time, follow me."

Soundlessly, he morphed back into his diminutive form and flew into a doorway (that had suddenly appeared out of _nowhere)_, earning an annoyed huff from the girl in the process. Against her best judgment, Piper followed, the issuing blue light from her pendant bouncing up and down the walls. In the relative darkness they traveled; only the echo of her footsteps and the faint wing-falls of the changeling dared to follow them.

Now, Piper liked to think herself as the most sensible of the team, always rationalizing before emoting, shoved away in the little nook of hers to work. After all, the team depended on her support to hold itself together, much like how interconnecting pieces of a building would interact to keep itself in one piece. Vary rarely (especially after the Lark incident) did she feel the need to throw caution to the wind. So when she followed this strange-bird man, she did so with little hesitation, feeling quite exhausted and wondering why she cared to care anymore (she suspected that maybe, just maybe, with each passing minute she stayed here, her sanity wore _that _much closer to the brink of madness).

"I'd rather not tell you this, but Atmos is on a slippery slope, a crash course of sorts since your team's... departure."

"What happened?" Piper found herself questioning aloud; "I thought the terras would re-orient itself after the collapse of Cyclonia. Well... granted that following Cyclonis on a whim and leaving the Atmos without guidance was not the brightest of ideas, but..."

"But the problem is that it _has _guidance," the White Hawk reasoned. "It has the _wrong _kind of guidance. The elders of the Sky Knight council and the Guardians are no longer in tune to the demands of the modern world. Their ideas are noble, and their wisdom true, but I'm afraid passivity no longer has a place in the upcoming battles."

"Battles...?"

"Yes, well... Arygyn has informed me that some people- former Cyclonians, I suspect- have the bright idea to reinstate the totalitarian government your team felled and take off where the current Master Cyclonis left off. You know, the whole 'conquer the world' bid that worked out _so well_ the last time. But... who am I to judge the collective IQs of incompetent ex-generals and Talons."

He stopped, hovering right where the single hallway diverged and spawned two extra tunnels. In all respects, all three appeared identical, save for the varying symbols, each related to a certain aviary specimen adorned above each parabola's apex.

"Where do I go from here?" Piper questioned, resting her hands against the exquisitely carved material.

"Well," the White Hawk offered. "You must choose your own path, just as others have made yours prior to this time. Think of it as a rite of passage!"

"Gee, thanks."

"My pleasure," he mock-bowed.

A finger wagged in the darkness, moving past the splitting paths and back again. "Uh... let's see here... eenie... meenie... miney... MOE!"

And with that, the dark-skinned girl disappeared. Only the White Hawk was left, perched by a broken statue, counting off with the claws of a foot. "Three... two... one..." ...Until Piper ran out again, screaming as saber-toothed bats flew after her.

"Not moe! Not moe!"

She ducked, the dozens of nocturnal creatures whizzing mere centimeters above her hair. Sighing, the bird-man pointed to the center path, nudging the now-prone girl towards it with relentless wing sweeps. "Well, there goes that. Come on, come on. Let's not get our pants wet. They're just _bats, _for land's sake."

So they continued until yet another doorway stood in their path. This time, however, it was made entirely of stone and looked as if it weighed a minimum of three tons, therefore impossible to manually move. Piper grumbled under her breath and eye-rolled.

"I knew I should have expected this... What's behind this door, anyway?"

"It is your ancestor's legacy... well, a mere fraction of it, actually. They're scattered across the Atmos, actually."

Indeed, as if in confirmation, the dust gave way, cascading to the ground in brown waterfalls. Soon, the remainder of the structure glinted dully in the stone's blue light, a small collection of crystals huddled at a corner. True to its rather mysterious but annoying nature, the aperture retained no markings as to where the crystals may be inserted.

Piper huffed. _Of course._ Trust a spooky old ruin to actually make things easy for her. She almost wished for deadly traps like those seen in the Forbidden City instead- at least she knew how to get past them.

"Don't mind that old thing," White Hawk grunted. "It's a ploy to dissuade even the most persistent of robbers. Just try to channel your energies through your Borealis crystal, and you should create a portal to the other side. Just concentrate... focus... and imagine creating a channel to the other side."

"But-"

"Ori- I mean, Piper, you are one of the most brilliant crystal mages I have ever met. It doesn't matter if you don't know what the other side looks like, you can do it!"

So she slid her eyes shut and focused, feeling her natural energy reserves rise to the challenge. Once more, the same adrenaline rush she had experienced upon first binding with Cyclonis slammed her body's systems into overdrive. Her hands visibly shook with the process. A soft azure light appeared at the door frame gently spilling out in curly lines to spell out a string of words in an unknown language. She pressed harder, growing visibly exuberant at her progress. And then, the flow stopped, just like that, the stream redirecting sharply in an attempt to return to whence it came from.

Piper immediately cried out, wringing her arms to rid them of the seemingly insurmountable pain created by the whiplash. To say that her skin was on fire would be an understatement; to simply say it was painful would have earned you a swift roundhouse kick to the face. It didn't just feel like she stuck her hands in lava, it felt as if she was being electrocuted and stabbed by a thousand knives at the same time. Once the burning subsided, a peculiar mark branded itself onto her skin on the back of her left hand, softly glowing a telltale red in a growing pool of blood.

"Argh... What is this...‽! Hey, ow! Don't put your claws there, that hurts!"

"Sorry," he moved. "It's a- hey, now! Don't do that, you're going to get-! Oh... You just had to do that, didn't you?"

"Of course," the navigator mumbled, literally licking her wounds. "Burn feels... more tolerable if I do. I think it has something to do with some natural painkiller in saliva, or something"

"That's still unsanitary," he grunted, wrinkling his 'brows' in disgust. "Anyway, it's not your family crest but rather a stylized raptor- the tag Rapture has chosen to identify you, if you will. You're lucky you only got branded by the door- most folks back in the old days were either crushed into paste, chased down a long, winding shaft by a twenty-foot tall, impossibly round boulder, or-," he rambled, seemingly taking a slight degree of pleasure in describing how the unfortunate souls were shredded and put together in entirely different combinations.

Piper pulled a face and held her hands palms out to signal the bird-man to stop. "Okay, okay, okay, I know. I get it. Do you know anything about the Binding? Not this one... the one between two people."

"I am over two hundred years old! Of **_course _**I know something about that dreaded practice!" He softened, given his audience's startled response to his outburst. "Well, indeed I'm old... and crotchety. Immortality is a double-edged sword, after all. Ignore little old me and ask away."

"Cyclonis will kill me when she finds out, but..."

"_Cyclonis?_" The bird nearly fell off its perch in shock. "**_The _**Master Cyclonis?"

Blood rushed to the girl's face. "Well, yeah. She kind of bound to me while I'm still bound to another and then this weird thing happened between us when we touched, and..."

The White Hawk shook its head frantically. "No, no, no, no, **_no_**! Of all the dumb things to do, she _had _to do it."

"She did it to save _my _life," Piper hotly protested.

Exasperated, the bird-man shook his head.

"The Binding technically **_is _**an evil force, designed to be taken up by experienced handlers _only_. It was used as the ultimate weapon in the War of Worlds, spreading death and destruction far past defined borders; the Wastelands is a lesser known result of the war. Although originally a purifying ritual event meant to foster harmony by the keepers of Clearwater, it was twisted in form by many rulers, each for their own ends- the creation of super-soldiers powered by the very crystal technology you see in your world these days."

"But what does it have to do with-?"

"The ritual normally is performed by people of similar backgrounds and perspectives- auras, basically- essentially tying homogeneous links together in one continuous rope. You and Cyclonis have _very _different auras- obviously- and the Binding reacts to this by forgoing the normal process and instead poisoning not only the one who performed it in the first place, but the object of the binding itself. If either of you have bound to another before, the progression of this leech will kill both of you within a month- not even three weeks! What you did merely expedited the problem!

"But... I suppose..." he trailed off, surely sifting through hundreds of years worth of information with distracted flaps of his wings. "I think it impossible to change a Cyclonis- it wouldn't be right to change anyone according to your will either way-, but... perhaps... if you learn and adapt to each other, it may work."

"Adapt?"

"Yes, adapt. I have yet to garner even the slightest idea of what it means to you- only one other pair has ever gotten into the same situation as you have done, after all-, but adapt by all means unnecessary Even in the end, when the last dew drops of your life spill from the great leaf of the world, you persevere clinging on with every bit of strength you have in your body! I apologize for this unwanted speech, but I simply cannot fathom one of the brightest young woman known- infamously, I may add- in the Atmos to risk her life to curry strength in yours."

"You don't have to rub it in, you know."

"I know," it smirked. "I've got a thousand more zingers at my disposal if you're willing to hear it. Ready? Okay! Why did the crystal mage-"

"No, no," Piper backed away. "You don't have to do that. It's fine- really. I just need to know how to get trough this door, end all of this ancestral... nonsense!... and let us get on with bot of our lives."

"Ah, suit yourself," it replied. "Try again. Now that you've properly been identified as a member of your lineage, it should-"

**CLACK!**

The stone shifted under the girl's influence, now ringed in blue light. It surprised the Storm Hawk, for what had used to be a difficult task was now considerably easier. Perhaps it was because the entire process was small potatoes in comparison to what Shahrokh told her- if what he was telling her about the Atmos was true, however. A small vermillion pinprick blossomed into existence shortly afterward, feeding on both lines of mutual energy flows. Within seconds, it exploded to a three foot radius, taking on a ghastly orange-ringed appearance in the process. Simultaneously, a great shiver ran through the land; both bird and girl flinched as structural supports gave way and the level above collapsed.

Warily, Piper stepped through, Shahrokh involuntarily squawking in surprise in her ear at the sudden movement. Nothing was there save for a ritualistic pedestal most likely used for sacrifices Hovering a mere foot above its apex, however, a lemiscate-shaped object hummed, spinning above its stony altar. Although it appeared to be wreathed in flames, only a comfortable temperature range issued forth- surprising, given the intensity of said fire.

"Oh my land... Is that...?"

"Mm-hmm"

"No way," Piper breathed, fighting the innate urge to bolt towards said object and scoop it into eager arms.

"Go on," the White Hawk urged. "Take it. It's yours."

Still, something stayed her hand- an unconscious doubt gnawing at the edge of her mind that now fully manifested itself in light of her new royal status. Was it the Sky Siren, who had almost doomed the entire team by playing on their wants, or was it the sheer impossibility of finding a legendary stone, much less _this _one? Looking back now, she could not tell.

Heeding nothing but the cautionary niggle in her brain, Piper obeyed, wrapping her fingers around its strangely cool surface. It responded to her touch, gently pulsing in tune to her heartbeat. Pure red energy connected with hers, thrumming happily as if it had been a wayward son returning home to joyous parents.

"Now what?" she breathlessly sighed, cradling the crimson Helix crystal.

The bird-man grinned as impishly as his beak would allow, even as the stone ceiling creaked worryingly above them. "Now, we portal out of here before we're turned into pancakes and set the world right."

**[[]]**

* * *

**[[]]**

Her stomach rumbled loudly, the noise bouncing hollowly off the walls. Cyclonis held it and hissed muted death threats under her breath. How many _hours_ has it been? A fist smashed against a wall and its owner howled in pain. Cradling her reddening knuckles, she _almost _felt sorry for driving her pairbonded rival off in a blind fury. For all she knew, that brat could have gotten herself killed with the intention of letting her die a slow, painful death.

She coughed, not entirely surprised when droplets of red mingled with phlegm. Cyclonis groaned, feeling her fever-induced headache grow more unbearable with every passing second. Sure the binding produced negative (and sometimes lethal) effects, but that didn't stop her from blessing the Dark Ace with her prowess all those weeks ago. How she managed to stave off the symptoms for this long, she didn't know (although she suspected it was partly due to her growing insanity); all she knew was that she absolutely hated this place.

"Blasted Rapture!" she seethed.

The stonework beneath trembled in response before lying still once more.

She blinked, steadying herself before snarling, "Must be imagining things."

Even as the last tremors fled her attention, deep within the bowels of the ruins, something awoke.

Cyclonis' ear twitched as her ears captured the sound of tons of weight toppling to the unfeeling ground. _'Nothing to worry about,' _she mumbled to herself, pressing her back against the wall in the case she proved herself wrong. The noise didn't cease, however, and the young woman thought herself lucky for not being _that _close to its source. To her surprise, however, the wall next to her burst open with a flash of sapphire light, a distorted ring forming in the company of painted caricatures.

"What the-‽"

From the opening, near-blinding light issued forth. Situated smack-dab in the middle, Piper stood, a proud-looking hawk carefully rested upon her wrist. Nigh gale winds swept forth, whipping hair and feathers alike and bringing life back into the massive structure. The oval-like opening pulsed a reassuring blue once more, glowing as bright as the sun and fully illuminating the structure.

Shielding her eyes from the onslaught, Cyclonis barely had enough time to blink before a stronger gale force revitalized the ancient site, blowing the entire site clean of accumulated dust and grime. One by one, the rate increasing by the second, hidden light sources flared to life. And then, the glare softened, and winds died down to a gentle breeze, softly caressing her body. When the light faded to tolerable levels, her jaw hit the floor.

She couldn't believe it; the very thing she had sought after for years was now clenched within this ingrate's hand- the nerve of this girl!

Said girl strutted confidently towards the dethroned Master, offering a cheesy grin in return for a darkening scowl. "Sorry to keep your royal queenly-ness waiting," Piper 'apologized'. "I found exploration a much better use of my time."

Pretending to examine her chipped dark-painted fingernails, said royal squared her shoulders and replied. "While I appreciate your acknowledgement of my superiority, I still find your reason dubious. Care to explain _why_ you have one of those overgrown rats with wings on your shoulder?"

Piper opened her mouth, but the race was lost as soon as the White Hawk popped its head over her shoulder and quipped, "So this is the Master you were talking about!"

"Well, well, well. Master Cyclonis. So _wonderful_ to finally meet your acquaintance. Don't you have the personality of a coffee mug?"

"The White Hawk," Cyclonis gaped, gently prodding every inch of the creature in awe after hastily stumbling away in shock.

"Yes, thank you for the recognition," he grunted, hopping away from the teen's curious touch onto Piper's other shoulder, "but I _really_ must excuse myself from the... attention... We mustn't dwell on things past and instead focus on things to come. I shall explain along the way."

Cyclonis blinked, unable to decide whether to steal the Helix crystal for herself or to force answers from the (admittedly small despite ancient writings) talking bird right here and now.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the changeling snapped, launching into the air. "Let's go!"


End file.
